Ain't No Rest For The Wicked
by TurtleFriedRice
Summary: Going back into the past to the Wild West? That part was bad enough. A whole town using nothing but Country Sayings? Living hell. -A big bang fic!
1. Chapter 1

**This is my second story for the OPbigbang event! This time I'm spreading some love to the fire crotches. Thank you to Bea for running this event, a huge ass eggtastic thanks to Sigrid for being my beta! I really appreciate it! Check out the most amazing art ever from my partner for this bb, atashiwatashi~ THANK YOU SARAH. I'll post links to it on my profile as soon as I have them! This first started out as a birthday fic for the hoe, so you - I know youre reading this - better enjoy it. **

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**I.**

"You must be one unlucky son of a gun."

Marco groaned, cradling his head with his hand, his eyes tightly shut. Fuck, that hurt; why did the minimum weight for text books seem to be a ton? It was bad enough on the rare occasion where a person accidentally dropped it on their foot and would never talk about it again, but being smacked in the head with one - fuck.

Had he passed out? He could feel himself already on the ground instead of his desk, but the air was hot and humid. They'd tried taking him outside? Had he been outside? Wait, he did know his own name right? It was better to double check.

"Hey, you alright? Blondie." For some reason, whoever it was hovering around felt the need to extend the nickname. They also had the nerve to prod at his cheek, as if that would answer their question.

Marco's hand shoved theirs away and gestured them off. "What happened, yoi?"

It wasn't like he didn't know, he remembered quite clearly the book coming straight for his head. Mostly it was the reason why that he wanted to know. Had it been an accident? Though, he highly doubted that for some reason considering it's angle. Who was the student who had done it, perhaps there was a reason he felt like taking his professor out?

"Well," the disembodied voice started, taking a deep breath in a universal signal that this was going to be good. "Some bastard came out of here like a bat outta hell, whipped his bottle around and smacked you right on your britches."

The country was strong in this one. "What?" Marco breathed in near disbelief, pulling himself up.

He didn't understand any of that. Well, no, he did, but that made no sense whatsoever. What kind of prank was this? He opened his eyes, glaring ahead unamused at this sort of tease, but his expression quickly shifted to one of confusion. This wasn't a student and this wasn't the university by any means.

For one, this man was shirtless, and, unless Marco had an earlier birthday he didn't know about coming up, he was pretty sure that he? didn't follow any sort of dress code. The man was grinning, bringing a mug to his mouth and gulping a few mouthfuls of something down. The professor was speechless. Half naked, wearing a cowboy hat that matched the accent, red beads and a gun on his hip- a gun?

The stranger must've seen Marco's body unintentionally tense, as his face softened and he indiscreetly sized Marco up. Then he gestured to the gun in the holster.

"Don't you worry about this. You've got bigger problems." He pointed at Marco's face. "That's gonna leave a mark."

What the hell was happening here? Marco shifted in his seat, hissing when his fingers brushed against the wood he where he was situated.

The wannabe Texas Ranger across from him just laughed. "Can't take you anywhere, can we?"

Irritated with his comments, Marco jerked his hand back to himself and looked away, his eyes widening at the sight. This was definitely no part of the campus. The sky was so blue ahead of them. It spanned and wrapped around a scenery of burnt orange and browns, scattered green plants and cacti, and mountains. Marco wasn't in Kansas anymore. The desert? How the hell was he in the desert?

He was up on his feet in moments, old wooden boards wailing under him as he moved to the end of the decked platform they were sheltered on, peeking around its corner. His heart raced. This was like - no it definitely was - identical to a western set from old movies, or pictures in cowboy books. There were scattered buildings built in a row, small alleyways in between them, dawning signs. From what Marco could read, squinting now that the sun was directly on him, a Trading post, Bank and Hotel among other things.

Stunned, he turned back around and stepped into the shade, his eyes hesitantly moving to see the swinging doors and the sign. So they were at a saloon? No. This made no sense. He was a professor at a university, not some cowboy. Why was he here suddenly? He didn't sign up for anything like this. Had he gone back in time? Damn, that just sounded stupid and embarrassing to even ponder.

The blond's eyes shifted back to the half naked man stretching and pulling himself up like a cat that had just finished napping. This couldn't have been the past. Men didn't dress like that then, nor were they so physically polished. Not that this was the time to focus on that stuff, Marco.

The guy yawned, taking a step toward Marco and moving his thumb to rest at his belt line, close to the gun. "On a scale from one to ten, how not from around here are you exactly, blondie? You seem a little lost."

That was an understatement. If Marco really was in the past he shouldn't interact with people though should he? He could mess up the whole space and time - whatever the hell they say in science fiction shit, right?

"Don't beat yourself up about it, I get lost sometimes, this one time I was fixin to find-"

"What year is it?" Marco blurted out, not finding it in himself to feel bad about interrupting the guy's story.

The cowboy hesitated, caught off guard by his words, before scratching at the back of his neck. "Shit, I dunno. I just know which day's my birthday, and I count from there. Check the paper."

Marco ran his fingers through his hair. He didn't have time to go find a newspaper and verify it, dammit, he needed to know even the tiniest bit about what was happening here. Was he really in the past or was this one huge prank? Either way, it wasn't fun in the least bit. So, he would have to try and confirm this with a different method.

"Do you know what a television is, yoi?"

"A tele-what?" Perhaps he was just good at acting.

"A computer?"

For some reason the guy looked uncomfortable, parting his lips, but then deciding to wait a few more moments to gather his thoughts. "You're seeing double, ain't you?"

No, he wasn't crazy! He was fine, he was himself, he was just in the freaking Wild West . Well, wait, he was himself, wasn't he? Marco never turned to the closet window faster in his life, checking himself out in the slight reflection there. His eyes were still his own, he looked like himself, all his hair was there... But these weren't his clothes. Had someone dressed him when they decided to drop him into this sort of hell hole?

Marco took a step back, looking down at his chest and the unusual attire that clothed his body. His blood ran cold. What the hell was this? Quickly, he grabbed the two sides of his shirt, which had been ripped down the center and held it close over his exposed chest. It didn't work out however, since it wouldn't fit even if it hadn't been ruined. It wasn't that Marco was self conscious or anything like that, it was the fact not ten minutes had passed and here he was nearly just as half naked as the other guy.

The weather was just hot, that was it, it wasn't his face, certainly not when he turned to look back at the other guy, who was watching perplexed.

"You're a strange guy, aren't you?" A smile returned on his face and he gave a huff of a laugh. "What's your name anyway?"

Marco wasn't strange, this situation was strange. This guy was strange. The lack of clothes was strange. His hand had found its way back to his forehead where no doubt a small knot had formed, but he dragged it down over his face and sighed. Screw the space and time thing, if he ruined the future by talking to this guy, how stable was their future anyway.

"Marco," he answered him, not too enthusiastic about it, noticing how rough his hands seemed to be. The blond raised his chin at a snicker.

"Marco?" It was odd, hearing his name in such an accent, but he dismissed it. The other guy continued to grin in a childlike manner; it was a bit unsettling and not what Marco had been expecting, which made him wary. He also hadn't expected such nice teeth for this time in the past. "Polo."

Oh, come on. Like that wasn't the oldest tease in the book. He was a grown adult and this guy seemed old enough he should know that teases about that stupid game were immature. Which, was that stupid game even around in the old west? Was this really some guy messing around with him? He'd have to remember to look something stupid like this up when he got back home, if he ever did. That was something he definitely didn't want to think about just yet.

Awkwardly, because he figured he should probably at least come off as somewhat polite to the guy with a gun, he forced a half smile at that. Haha, yeah, funny stuff. It was hard to be too sarcastic even in his mind though, the other's smile was too genuine. So figuring he literally had nothing else to do but be clueless and otherwise alone in a different time period, he instead turned to face the guy more.

"You?"

The stranger averted his eyes suspiciously, his hand moving to adjust how he wore his hat. That secretive, huh? Or was that just something people in the Wild West did, keep to themselves even with information such as their names? No, that didn't make any sense at all. The freckled guy did have a gun after all… Was he an outlaw? Well, it wasn't like Marco looked like some sort of sheriff, he didn't have a shirt that could close. Damn, Marco knew how to pick people to stick with, didn't he?

"I'm," The guy paused in his words, pressing his lips together in contemplation, "Portgas."

Marco raised his eyebrow. Why did that sound very, very, familiar? Portagas. It fit so well with what was happening and the Wild West. His brain was sent back to his normal time, just remembering some time when Thatch cornered him in the library for his weekly find and fan boy session. Portgas… and something to do with playing cards.

"Portgas... Ace?"

The guy's eyes widened, surprised. "Oi," His voice was still stuttery it seemed. "What did you say?"

Marco was a bit startled he remembered and had blurted it out himself. Usually things that Thatch had told him tended to go in through one ear and out the other without really sticking, including any history articles about old wanted criminals. But this one, he could remember since, for some reason, the name had always stuck out to him. Portgas Ace. No, that still wasn't right, it was missing something.

"Portgas D Ace?"

Ace was slack jawed, but he shut his mouth and his eyes narrowed. "You ain't as dumb as you look… How do you know that name?"

He wasn't aware he looked dumb. Marco scowled, sighing. Alright, well, if he remembered the guy's name and he was an outlaw with a gun, he needed to approach this calm and rationally. It would really suck if after confirming he was in the Wild West with a famous westerner, he was so quickly shot down. Thatch would never forgive him for not fully enjoying the experience or something along those lines.

The blond gave a half shrug. "I must've overheard it somewhere. Why?" He met his stare. He didn't mean to provoke the guy with the weapon, but at the same time he really wanted to send the message that he knew. Marco just had a bad habit of being a 'as a matter of fact I do know' guy. "Was it a secret, yoi?"

Ace's eyes didn't lose any suspicion just yet, but his shoulders relaxed - as did his hand that may or may not have been going toward his holster. Unexpectedly, his grin returned.

"You know, I think you and me are going to get along _just_ fine."

Marco tensed slightly, watching as Ace moved forward, purposely letting his shoulder and arm bump into his. Crap, why did he feel like he just signed his own Wild West death certificate?

"Come on. Let's go for a walk."

An execution walk, great. Marco turned, watching Ace step off the deck and onto the sand, apprehension crawling up his spine. Unwanted, his mind drifted back to the words of one of his students, Yolo. You only live once. In his mind it was the most modern phrase that probably summed up the Wild West pretty damn well; who was he not to partake?

He stepped down, covering his eyes now that he was fully exposed to the sun. Damn, as expected heat was a big factor around here. Where Ace was leading him through, Marco wasn't sure. He knew he wouldn't, but he really didn't recognize anything familiar about this place to help him map where this town could've been, but, considering the hills and mountains in the distance on both sides, he got the eerie feeling there was a reason, as if they were going for hidden.

The town in itself seemed pretty bare, having only a few main buildings down this road and some others spread out, but it had its handful of people. Some avoided staring at them all together, others greeted Ace in their own country slang. Marco just watched, bewildered. He was turning his head so much it would be sore the next day. Everything was so authentic, so historic. Thatch was going to cry when he heard about this.

"Oi! Thatch! Come out, we have company." Ace was laughing.

What the hell? Had he read his mind? How in the hell did he know Thatch? Unless, that son of a bitch was back in time as well. If he found some kind of genie lamp and decided to drag him back to the Wild West with him, Marco was going to probably kill him, that was for sure.

"Thatch?" he breathed out, his mind trying to think. "Thatch is here?"

Ace looked back at him with his eyebrow raised. "You know Thatch? Well, that explains it then."

The cowboy turned back to the building, cuffing his hands around his mouth to give another hollar. But before he could get in a second yell, the doors squeaked, flying outward from the force of someone's palm.

"Will you stop hollerin' like a pig?" Thatch growled.

It was Thatch, but at the same time it wasn't. The Thatch back home could've been a fanboy of cowboys all he wanted to be, but when it came to an authentic accent he couldn't even when he tried. He didn't see his friend as weak, but something about this one gave off an aura of authenticity and gruff, stereotypical of the Wild West.

So what did that mean? Was this one of Thatch's super old ancestors? How in the hell did the name Thatch stick around long enough to be used in the future as well? Was it... reincarnation? Either way, the small pit of hope that had been brewing with Marco dwindled. So much for hoping somewhere there was a genie wish that could get him back home.

Like a child, Ace laughed and climbed up onto the place's platform, waving Marco over when he stood.

"Hey, have you met this guy?" It was odd, but already it seemed like Ace was proud with his weird guy find. "Listen to how he talks. Say something."

Marco blinked. Ah, the life of being a sideshow.

"Yoi?"

Thatch's eyebrows raised. "Neat." So blunt. "Come on, let's get a drink."

Was this even real? Marco was rubbing at the sore spot on his head again. All of this seemed so weird and didn't make sense. He appeared out of nowhere in a Wild West town and, suddenly, he was friends with some guy he remembered to be an outlaw - there was a copy of his real best friend here, and they were okay with him, as a strange new guy, enough to invite him in for drinks.

He had to be in a coma. It was a realistic explanation. He was on a bed somewhere, wires and tubes hooked up to his face while Thatch hovered over reading history books no doubt.

Well, a drink was a drink, and Marco could use one. This was the Wild West so him declining the offer could easily come across as something suspicious. Especially when he mistakenly already let on he knew who Ace was and, now, Thatch.

Quietly, opting to just continue observing for the time being and remaining quiet as to not reveal he was from the future, he followed the two of them in, trying not to sneeze when he did. Sand and dust everywhere, a real historic experience. At least this saloon seemed well taken care of, only a few chairs at the scattered tables unbalanced. Not that they were going there, not when an authentic bar was in reach.

Thatch slid behind the bar quick to grab his rag to clean some glasses while Ace and Marco sat. Marco still felt a little out of his own skin, but he remained composed, taking the drink that was offered, staring down at it's liquid.

"So where's this one from?" Was that supposed to sound like Marco wasn't the first guy for Ace to bring home?

Both sets of eyes moved onto Marco, the professor meeting them with his blank expression. There went his plan of remaining mostly silent and hoping they didn't question much. But of course, how could that have worked out for him when unintentionally he'd become like a new toy?

"I'm from…" He restated the question at first, swallowing thickly. He could probably say anything and get away with it. "I'm from... Disney Land." It was the first thing to come to mind, alright?

Marco was actually glad no one from his time was around to know how lame of an answer that was, but if it worked and they believed it; who was he to say anything else? He watched the two men exchange glances.

Thatch spoke first, clearing his throat. "Oh. Ive heard of that place. Haven't you, Ace?"

Ace furrowed his brows, nodding his head while he set his hat off to the side. "Uh, yeah, of course." His voice went lower, a total lie. "That's where they grow those one things..."

"Pineapples?" Thatch chimed in.

"Yeah, those things with the, you know," Ace brought his hand up toward his head, gesturing to something sprouting there. His hand slowly stopped, his eyes meeting Marcos. "...You know. Yeah." Cough.

Marco's teeth were clenched. First the sass about his name, now the pineapple tease. Coma dream, it had to be. Marco was so tempted to ask him to explain further, enjoy the slight red on the stranger's cheeks at how odd the conversation went so quickly, but, instead, he went to experimenting this drink.

Ace turned away from him then, seeming to want to do the same, and sipped at his own glass and focused on? his friend.

"So, Thatch, you been spreading my name around town again?" Ace cheeks were out slightly, like a pouting child.

Thatch shook his head, his pompadour slightly bobbing as he did. "No, why do you ask?"

Getting his handy, dandy, hitchhiker's thumb out, Ace gestured to Marco. "He knew my name and says he knows you, so I was wonderin'."

Both Marco and Ace sat up straight, Thatch's hand coming down forcefully on his own bar, rag still in his fingers. Quickly, Marco looked at his face, wondering if such a harmless comment was enough to piss the barkeep off, but wasn't expecting him to be… excited?

"Well butter my butt and call me biscuit." If Marco wasn't choking because of the slam on the table, he was choking now from the pure 'wtf' of what had just been said. "Why didn't you say so?"

No seriously, what had he just said? Butter his butt- call him a biscuit? Something was very off from what was happening here and what he thought he knew about the Wild West. Now that he thought about it, Ace had said some unusual things a little earlier, hadn't he… Marco wasn't dumb, he knew stupid lame sayings a lot of people back in his town used, but surely that kind of crap wasn't real? Right?

A hand collided with his back, surging him a bit forward and out of his coughing fit. Marco was slightly thankful, sending Ace a nod for it, but still bewildered none the less.

"I'm sorry," His voice was a bit raspy. "What did you say?"

Thatch tilted his head slightly. "Why didn't you say so?"

No- well, he meant the other part, but it was probably for the best something such as that didn't get repeated.

"Well, I think I was mistaken, yoi." Definitely mistaken, he couldn't pay the real Thatch twenty bucks to say something like that. "I just know someone with the same name."

Ace huffed, for what reason Marco wasn't sure. Was that funny?

"Look's like there's another Thatch on your stomping grounds."

Thatch sighed, setting down another glass he'd dried. "Can't be having that. Bring him here, I'll fight for the name."

Did people in the past really fight over such stupid things like having the same name? Well, it made sense if someone was trying to make a name for themselves that having the same as another would cause trouble, but still.

"If he doesn't snore, I think I'll take my chances with the other one." A very familiar voice rang from the side. Both Thatch and Ace looked over, but Marco needed a minute.

Of course, if there was a Thatch ancestor that somehow here, why wouldn't there be an Izo one? It didn't make sense in anyway, because how could they be together in the past enough to multiply enough to even be in the future, but there was a reason Marco didn't go into the field of genetics, nor was he going to focus too much on it. He need only brace himself for what he was about to witness, because this had to be good.

Oh, and it was. Marco wished he had a camera so bad to capture this moment. Thatch back home had wanted to get Izo into this kind of costume more than one occasion, and Izo had claimed he'd rather die, yet here he was in full western female attire, corset and flowing ruffles all the way down. Honestly, it wouldn't surprise the blond in the least if he was about to be told Izo was the prettiest woman in the town.

He just couldn't help it, really, he couldn't. Until this point, Marco really wanted to seem composed and cool about whatever was coming in this time adventure, but after seeing what looked like his friends in western attire- starting to bicker in their shared saloon of some sort - he couldn't help the laughter that escaped his lips, even when he tried to cover his mouth. It didn't help when Thatch moved closer to Izo to confront the stupid thing he'd said, and Izo met him at height to make his point. They were so alike to the real thing, but so different at the same time.

Quickly, because they noticed, all eyes went to him, probably wondering what was so funny. Basically, it wouldn't be safe to take drinks around here unless he wanted it to come out of his nose, Marco was finding out.

"Who is this guy?" Izo stepped closer, his boots clacking as he walked, his hands lifting up the skirt of his dress oh so elegantly. "Ace, what did I tell you about bringing your stray cats back here?"

Ace stretched in a way Marco shouldn't have glanced over to look, considering he just had to look away with heated cheeks. The freckled man lowered his arms, moving instead to sprawl them over the bar, his eyes going into a sort of puppy mode in Izo's direction.

"Come on, Izo, he ain't a cat, he's my new pal." Ace smirked. "Marco from the land of Pineapples."

"Pineapples, huh?" At some point, from some place, Izo had retrieved a fan and clenched it in his hand. He was carefully studying Marco, which made the professor glad he came equipped in the right wardrobe. "I can see it."

Cold, Izo, that was cold.

"So what brings you to these parts then, Marco from Pineapple Land?"

Seriously, that wasn't going to become a thing was it? Great, he could come up with some bogus place to be from, but he hadn't thought up a nice reason why he was here. Honestly, he wished someone else could let him in to why he had to be here.

"I just like to travel, is all." Simple enough right?

Izo looked like he had more to say; if he was as perceptive as the one in modern times, he could most likely sense there was more to the story, but he stayed quiet, moving to look back at Thatch. They lowered their tones, but Marco could still pick out some key words here and there, finding their conversation to be about stock and other saloon related things. To Marco's humor, he just imagined it instead to be some sort of discussion on whether or not Izo would be getting a stage or not to perform on.

There was a nudging to his arm that pulled his attention away finally, and Marco looked to Ace, whose face had calmed. It was so weird, how they all just seemed to shrug off the fact he was a stranger and let him come and drink with them like it was nothing and they were now friends. Was this what people referred to as southern hospitality?

"So you really just overheard my name somewhere?" It couldn't have been too hard to believe, right? "You didn't learn it from anybody? Just so we're on the same page."

Well, he did learn it from someone, but if he started explaining that to Ace, Marco was pretty sure their hospitality would turn into pity because he'd look insane. Besides it was probably better, for the space and time thing, not to let anyone somewhat famous here, like Portgas D. Ace, their future. It would just screw stuff up and change the past which, if movies were correct, was a no go.

Marco nodded. "You wouldn't believe the stuff you overhear in places, yoi." Instant regret. He wouldn't ask what kind of things, right? Marco could play the part, but coming up with so much stuff on the spot was a bit tiring.

Ace opened his mouth, acting like he'd actually ask, but then his jaw clamped shut. His eyes drooped and he almost seemed like he might sneeze, the way they were rolling back, but instead - to Marco's surprise - his body slumped over to the side in the direction of the bar, and he fell against it like a rock, limp.

Marco nearly knocked his seat over how fast he stood up. The first thing that came to his mind, poison? Had Ace been poisoned and just died? What the hell was that? But wait, didn't he drink the same thing? His eyes moved to Thatch and Izo, not sure if he should be relieved they weren't wearing wicked 'yes we did it' grins about all of this.

In fact, they seemed weirdly calm.

"Don't worry yourself about that, Marco." Thatch lightly patted his pompadour before walking back behind the bar near where Ace was, slummed. "He does this all the time, just falls asleep."

Izo flicked his wrist and opened up his fan, using it to give himself a mild breeze in the heat. "It's a great party trick." How sarcastic.

Hesitantly, Marco took a step forward, staring at the way Ace's cheek had flattened against the bar's surface. He was going to look toward his exposed chest again - to check if he was breathing, dammit, not for pleasure - but a loud snore was all that was needed to confirm that he was actually sleeping. How crazy was that, he should really see a doctor to get that checked out. Well, that is, if doctors in this time could even diagnose such a thing.

"Marco, be a dear," Izo purred so casually, apparently he was one of the gang now. "Take him and drop him on a bed upstairs."

So this place was what, a half hotel half saloon? Or was that just their own personal home? Either way, Marco wasn't sure how comfortable he was picking up Ace to take him up there. The part of his brain he really wished would just shut off was focused strongly on whether or not he'd be sticky to the touch.

"Wait," Thatch saved him temporarily. "You don't have a place to stay either, do ya? You're free to the other bed. First room on the right."

Nevermind, they were still going to make him lug Ace's ass up there. At least he had a place to stay his first night in Wild West hell. Carefully, seeing as it would get strange if he didn't at least try, Marco moved in close to the sleeping cowboy and took one of his arms. Instead of picking him up bridal style, which would've been more comfortable, he pulled his arm up and across his shoulders and began to drag. Thatch and Izo weren't questioning it, so he decided not to either.

"Ya'll come back down a little later." Izo gave the blond a wink.


	2. Chapter 2

**II.**

Marco glared out into darkness. Dammit, he was really hoping that after he'd fallen to sleep he would wake up back at the school instead of back at this place in the Wild West. He didn't need any lights on to know he was still here, he could hear horses off in the distance, and the building was creaking in a way that screamed 'you're still stuck in the Wild West'.

There had been some sort of party downstairs earlier, which was the nightly thing to do in saloons apparently, but Marco had opted to miss it, coming straight back to the bed he was allowed and trying to sleep this reality off. Unfortunately for him, his brain was being a prick and took his slumber as nothing more than a nap, which allowed him to be wide awake now in the middle of the night.

He sat up in bed, itching at a place on his arm. Damn mosquitos. It took a while, but his eyes were starting to adjust to the light, and from what he could tell, the bed across from him in this empty room was still empty, its covers forgotten to the sides from when Ace woke back up earlier. In his place, his hat was settled comfortably.

Was this where he lived every night, above Thatch and Izo's saloon? Didn't he have a place of his own or a family to get back to? Not that it was any of Marco's business. The professor turned and situated himself off the edge of his own bed, rubbing at his eyes. Man, what was he going to do about all of this? What was the purpose of him coming back here, and what was the quickest way to get it over and done with so he could return home?

Marco pulled his boots back on - there was no way in hell he was getting a splinter around these parts, that was for damn sure - before getting up and heading back downstairs. On the way down, he could hear Thatch snoring from behind a closed door, the sound of that was the same, and he wasn't the least bit surprised to find the floor of the saloon trashed, chairs overturned and empty mugs all around. No wonder the guy spent so much time cleaning them the next day, savages.

At least from this side of the building, the moonlight was coming in from the door frame. It was a bit alluring, Marco finding himself sympathetic to flies going toward zappers, as it drawed him in. It was nostalgic in the best kind of way, because it reminded him of late nights at home.

To his surprise, when he walked outside, Ace was sitting just like he'd been the first time Marco had seen him - on the edge of the platform. Except this time, he was propped up against one of the buildings beams, fiddling with something in his hands. Considering how everything had to make a noise when you moved, it was practically impossible to sneak up on anyone in the Wild West, Ace's head rose and turned when the man joined him.

"Marco." Ace gave a nod. Least the guy seemed to be polite, despite pineapple teases. "Can't sleep?"

Cautiously, Marco sat like Ace was sitting, but a few feet away from him. He ran his hand down his face, trying to pull himself out of a numb state of mind.

"How can anyone sleep when it's this hot around, yoi?" He hadn't meant to sound so bitter, but, fuck, maybe he should've been allowed it.

It made Ace chuckle, going back to what he was working on. "Ah, well, I'm always sweating like a whore in church so I don't mind it. You from somewhere cold?"

Marco dropped his hand, staring at Ace a moment. Like a what in what now? He didn't really want to associate Ace with a whore in church.

"Not really cold so much as… not this hot." There was too much that would need to go into explaining what an air conditioner was anyway. "What are you doing?"

Ace raised his hand, turning the shape in his hand as if eyeing it down himself before moving to hold it out more into the moonlight. "Nothing really, I just like to tinker with it sometimes. See what makes it work."

Why did Marco feel like some inner adult instinct was clicking in, telling him to go into some sort of spew on gun safety right now? Tinkering with a weapon - which he couldn't really tell if it was loaded or not at the moment - didn't sound like it would ever end well.

"Isn't that dangerous?" There they were, his soft words of wisdom. He wasn't going to try and snatch it or anything, he trusted Ace for now and knew he wasn't being held captive, but he was holding it out there enough he could.

Ace adjusted his fingers, taking it back into his hand before giving it a swing, letting the weapon rotate around his thumb all fancy like. "Nah, this thing couldn't hurt me if it tried. We're like peas in a pod."

Teasingly, like a little shit, he stopped the gun from spinning, holding it at its handle and cradling it in close to his cheek, wearing a smirk all the way.

"It's sure as hell long, ain't it?" Slowly, from what Marco could see in the moonlight, Ace's eyes lowered down to gesture at his own self, then back at the blond. He was totally referencing what he thought he was.

"We.." Marco cleared his throat, he hadn't realized how the dry air had made him parched suddenly. "We're still talking about the gun, yeah?"

Another huff and Ace's eyebrow rose. "You reckon?"

Shit. Marco turned his face away. At least it was still dark and colors weren't too easy to distinguish. He didn't need to hear about any sort of length right now, it was the least of his problems. It was better to remain silent.

"Don't gotta be shy around me, Marco, I can't blame you for taking a look. I am Portgas D. Ace." It had to be on purpose, but Ace had put down his gun right next to him and gone into full stretch of his arms, knowing full well he'd be in the corner of Marco's eyes. "Future greatest of the Wild West."

Future greatest, huh? Well, the slight cocky attitude aside, Marco knew some bad news for this guy. Although his name was a popular one back in modern days, it wasn't because he was the greatest. It was a bit more tragic. Which made Marco's gut swirl a bit. He was sitting next to a Wild West legend, that was for sure, but he was also sitting next to and in a town of people who had already died. It was just a tad bit morbid. Just a tad. But even more so why he shouldn't be checking them out - or getting caught doing so!

"It's not like that, yoi." The explanation left Marco before he could fully explore it. Purposely, he turned his face away more, staring off at more nothings in particular.

Ace let out a long hum and, being mindful of his weapon, he gave a scoot closer to Marco. "You know you say that a lot. _Yoi_. Whats that mean back in Pineapple Land?"

For one, he was saying it wrong with that accent, but Marco wasn't going to willingly correct him. Leave it to the Wild West to make him feel like he was back in the awkward years of his life growing up - pineapple and name teases, now his speech. At least he knew the people here didn't mean them in harsh ways. Still, in a rare situation he hadn't felt in years since becoming a professor, he felt slightly out of his element and self conscious. Not in a way that he wanted to hide himself or something stupid like that, no, but in a way that made him wish he'd played off as being mute instead of asking questions in the beginning.

Unfortunately, Marco didn't feel like Ace was the one to easily let something go unanswered when he was curious.

"It's nothing really, yoi." The top of his cheek lightly flushed as his inability to hold it back in the first sentence since deciding he would. "Doesn't mean anything, like a bad habit. Can't help it. Like your accent, yoi." Damn rambling making it sort of worse.

"Ah, I think I get it…" Ace paused, before feeling the need to add. "Yoi."

Marco put his face into his hand. That's not what he meant, if Ace understood it the way he thought he did. He didn't need the 'yoi' to understand words, dammit, it just slipped out when he spoke.  
It was Ace clearing his throat this time, totally changing how he sat by tucking a leg under himself and turning a little the opposite direction. "Sorry." His voice was softer. "I kind of just wanted to try."

Silence surrounded them, sans a few bird noises in the distance which added to the desert ambiance. Ace picked his gun back up before turning back to Marco.

"Hey, you want to see something neat? Look at this."

Since his expression seemed to be more composed again, Marco dared to dart his eyes over. His gun again? The guy was pretty attached to it, wasn't he? It made the blond wish he knew how to put it on safety or something - moving it around so much one of them was bound to get randomly hit. Still, he would humor the other man, even if he'd just teased him.

Ace was running his fingers across it's exterior before angling the gun upward toward the sky. "Would you believe me if I said I can shoot fire?"

Marco's eyebrow skeptically rose. What nonsense were they getting themselves into now? "Fire?"

Ace smirked, bringing the gun to his lips and giving it a blow.

That was one hell of a magic trick, that was for sure. If Marco hadn't seen fake guns that acted as lighters in gas station windows his whole life, he might have been impressed. Still, it was interesting, the fact that Ace had something like that back in this time and he hadn't even had to pull the trigger - at least from what Marco could tell. So was it not even a real gun?

"Now I know what you're thinkin'. What can this little itty bitty thing do, right?"

Kind of, yeah. The blond kept his eyes on the gun, watching as the cowboy moved it away from himself and aimed it at some empty crates in the distance. Why were they just randomly sitting out there and away from buildings? Had Ace already moved them intending to have his own private target practice? Not that Marco wouldn't mind giving him company while he did - but why did he get this feeling the sound of a gunshot would just wake everyone else around unhappily.

"Watch this." For target practice, he wasn't aiming at the target extremely well, aiming up past it. Then, breathing it out in a way Marco almost didn't hear it, "_Hotarubi_."

Now this nearly had Marco falling off the deck. He wasn't any kind of western gun expert, or, hell, even a modern day gun expert, but he knew sure as hell they weren't supposed to do that. No bullets left the barrel of Ace's gun, only bright yellowish green orbs. They weren't like real fire at all, but like fireflies. Is that what he meant? Still, what the hell?

Speechless, Marco watch wide eyed as they hovered into the sky, all in different directions. An interesting light show to say the least. One glided back toward its creator, landing in Ace's palm when he offered it. Marco could see from the way it illuminated Ace's face - so many freckles... interesting - and how he was nothing but comfortable with it. Whatever it was. He couldn't see a bug body to save his life, and now all his mind was jumping to was some sort of witchcraft.

"Reckon this is as cute as a bug?" He was practically showing off the way he moved it back and forth in his fingers.

Marco hesitantly tensed when he offered that out toward him as well. "Wanna touch?"

Yes and no. He didn't want to be caught up in anybody's witchcraft, whereas at the same time, his curiosity had never been so grand. Without fully exploring any and all consequences, his hand was lifted and, before he knew it, his fingers were brushing up against the light.

By now Marco was positive it wasn't a sort of insect, and his mind went back to what Ace had said about fire. The thing sure as hell had some heat to it, although no real form of its own. Confused and wishing he'd just explain it, Marco glanced up at Ace's face, unsure why he seemed so focused. Had he done something wrong? Was Marco really not supposed to touch it? Quickly, he dropped his hand and muttering a half apology.

Ace let out a low hum, bopping the fire light back into the sky. His dark eyes stared down at Marco's hand a moment longer before he let out a snort without any explanation. Then, like a proud parent, he shifted his face at his creature like things in the sky, but his eyes were still watching Marco carefully. "The ladies love this one more than the others. Seems romantic, don't it?"

Son of a - why was everything suddenly about romance? No, Marco wasn't going to get trapped going down this path again. It was better to focus on the subject at hand. "How did you make these, yoi?"

Ace shrugged, lifting his gun back up, blowing out it's tiny and playful flame. "No idea, it's got me stumped. Found this damn thing falling onto a cactus once, best thing I've ever woken up to yet."

Granted, the image of imagining Ace fall onto a cactus and find a gun was amusing, Marco couldn't help but cringe slightly at how much that had to have hurt. Did he pass out randomly like he had done earlier? He was dying to ask more about that, if it was something that always just happened, but he figured there were more interesting things to talk about at the moment. Like why was there a gun on or inside of a cactus that could make firefly like things.

"What do these do?" Marco gestured to the floating orbs.

It seemed to ignite Ace's excitement. The cowboy got up to his feet and gave Marco a nod, radiating with his confidence. It was an interesting sight to see from Marco's perspective, watching as the glowing lights moved in closer to their creator as if anticipating what he was about to do.

Shoulders back, chest out, Ace rose and aimed the gun correctly at his target. "_Hidaruma._"

Damn, for small orbs they sure as hell were obedient. Marco felt like he was sitting in the front row of some sort of firework show, his head moving quickly to follow the glowing lights as they quickly flashed and collided with their intended target. They had to be explosives because the damn crate made air time, being engulfed in fire in seconds flat and meeting the ground once again charred.

Marco's jaw dropped and he went to say something, anything, be it some awkward ass noise from his amazement or what, but Ace didn't let him speak. He'd already moved how he was standing, shifting his weight differently and changing which hand would hold the gun. It wasn't only target practice - the damn guy was performing.

"Now, watch this one." The whole gun was practically covered in flames - did the stupid thing even take bullets? What was this! "_Higan_!"

A barge of bullets - though they didn't even seem to be bullets so much as flames - exited the end of the gun's barrel toward the next target, hitting it effectively. Ace followed through in his performance, hitting the deck and rolling to get in position for the third.

Marco found himself with eyes wide and on his feet, no longer looking at the targets being hit by such a magical gun, but instead at Ace. Did he even notice his arm had been engulfed in the exchange? Did it even hurt him? There was little to no reaction, the guy looked like a pyromaniac on Christmas.

The finishing move to the performance was something called 'Kagero'. It was a blast of fire that, well, finished everything off. As if there was much left to still burn at this point. Ace threw his head back, catching his breath and laughing soft in his own enjoyment. He gave himself a slap on the knee and looked over at his audience, where Marco still mimicked a deer in headlights.

"Yoi!" Marco felt angry at how irresponsible he was being, down at the sand burning like a bitch.

Ace caught on quickly, looking down at his arm and noticing the fire. He cussed to himself, though still didn't appear to be in pain, but patted it out anyway before getting up.

"Sorry 'bout that. I still get carried away." Ace put his gun back in his holster before approaching. Got carried away? That was a little more than carried away - the damn things were still burning. "Reckon I can be the greatest now?"

Marco stared in disbelief still. Was that what he wanted, his opinion on that still? Was there even an argument when witchcraft was on your side? He swallowed thickly, eyeing Ace even when he lowered his face.

"You… found that gun in a cactus?" Skeptical, Marco was skeptical.

Ace shrugged. "I didn't find the gun, the gun found me?"

-0-

So not only did Marco have to worry about execution if he pissed Ace off, burning alive was added to the list. It made trying to fall back to sleep ten times harder, just knowing some kind of powerful weapon like that was beside the guy. True, Marco didn't have any kind of reason not to trust or to think Ace was a bad guy just yet, but he didn't want to get too comfortable. It was the Wild West, people probably killed for a lot less.

Waking up in the morning, against whether he wanted to or not since all the noise in the town could be heard through these walls, he wasn't surprised to see yet again he was still in the two horse town. Joy. Again he was alone in the room too, Ace and his weird gun of fire gone from the scene. Trying to see it as a normal day, the blond went down and nodded to his look alike friends.

"Mornin', Marco." Thatch was up as Marco would have expected, cleaning the glasses just like he knew he'd have to. "Looking for Ace?"

Not... specifically. Marco had been looking around the place, thinking to himself how quick it had turned back around to seeming somewhat decent and not really focusing too much on the curiosity of where the wanna be cowboy went. He was probably off somewhere setting everything on fire or finding weird things in cacti.

Thatch just laughed to himself, however, taking Marco's lack of reply as confirmation. "He went off to find his brother. Now, that kid would be late to his own funeral."

Brother? So Ace did seem to have a family. That was good, wasn't it? Had his brother gone off on some kind of trip and that was why the second bed was empty for Marco? Nah, he was probably getting ahead of himself again, but he couldn't help it. Everything about what was happening had his mind constantly calculating and trying to stay a step ahead.

He sat down at the counter. "He has a brother?"

Thatch nodded again, setting a mug down and starting on the next. "Sure does, loud one too. Eats everything in sight. But he's handy when he's got information to share."

Did Ace's brother wear a shirt or know Ace was into witchcraft? No matter what Marco tried to distract himself with, his thoughts always seemed to go back to such trivial things.

"Thatch… have you seen Ace's gun, yoi?"

Thatch paused in his work, his eyes lifting up and settling on Marco's before he let out a long sigh. "Let me guess, you got to see the show?"

A door to the backroom squeaked open, Izo booty bumping his way through with an arm holding some sort of pan. His expression seem just as unamused.

"He'd marry that damn gun if he could, it's all he'll talk about if you get him started." Izo brought the pan and sat it down on the counter a little ways from Marco, retrieving a knife from his pocket. "But he never tells you the joys of picking pins out of his face the three weeks afterward. Do you really think he had so many freckles before?"

As comedic as that was, seeing as Ace did have a lot of freckles, Marco was stunned to think they knew about such a contraption and weren't bothered by it in the slightest.

"Isn't it... weird?" This was awkward to try to bait into.

"Of course. What, they don't have devil guns back in Pineapple Land?" Izo cut out a piece of the bread from the pan and offered it out to Marco. "Here, it's corn bread. Eat it."

Marco took it, eyeing it, but looking back up at them first. "Devil guns?" No, he wasn't in the Wild West, he was in some crap science fiction movie, now wasn't he?

Thatch moved in close to Izo, stealing the next cut piece before he could eat it. The barkeep took a large bite, considering its taste a moment before continuing.

"They're around and powerful, but they're rare, its like finding a needle in a haystack. People search their whole lives for them." He paused, his expression darkening. "They aren't that spiffy. Damn cactus."

Izo elbowed his significant other, and Marco watched as Thatch choked long enough to find himself a drink. "Don't listen to him, he's bitter. He found and lost his once upon a time and he still can't look at cacti the same way. Ace's brother has one too, but it's infuriating."

Both brothers had these rare gun things? Damn, the Wild West wasn't just some walk in the park - not that Marco ever truly expected it to be. What would the real, modern Thatch think if he knew something weird like devil guns were really a thing and his ancestor apparently lost one? If Marco was on the same planet earth though, why weren't? these things found and put in a museum somewhere safe in modern times?

"Anyway, Marco - take a bite." Izo jabbed his finger at him, prompting Marco to take a bite. He did forget that he had a habit of forgetting to eat. "Alright, anyway, the legend said only those chosen to be powerful would find one. If you haven't found yours at this point, don't even dream of it. It's a waste of time and only idiots willing to get their head shot off want it."

Izo pursed his lips, shooting a glance at Thatch who was going back to focus on work. "Honestly, it's better some people don't take such a stupid path."

They were so alike to their modern counterparts. Even if Izo sounded sassy, or even a little rough, it wasn't because he didn't care. But at the same time watching it all go down, Marco got vibes that he could only compare to seeing one's parents flirt with each other.

Thankfully, because of course the day needed to be more eventful, the saloon's doors swung open, and a bouncing body tumbled on in and attached itself quickly to the bar. Marco was mid bite and hardly got to finish, the corn bread piece he had being pulled from his hands before he could.

"Izooooo!" a younger boy with black hair laughed while holding multiple pieces of bread in his arms. He didn't quite fit in- despite the western attire he was wearing. His eyes were large and made quite the impression.

"Dammit Luffy, it's just corn bread- remember to chew!"

It didn't seem to matter. The kid was stuffing his face in a competitive eating style.

Marco was speechless, but after watching how he did it and losing his appetite, he wasn't even mad. A few seconds later, an out of breath Ace found his way through the door, holding his hat to his head.

"Luffy! What's the matter with you? Why do you always gotta run around like a chicken with its head cut off?"

If Ace liked to grin, Luffy apparently liked it even more, his smile stretched wide and showed a toothy, not so innocent, grin. A unique laugh of 'shishishi' followed.

"Sorry Ace, I love Izo's cooking."

Izo didn't seem very flattered, a vein visible in his forehead. "You love anything you can digest. Are you studying to be a half wit or does it come natural?"

Luffy gulped down a bite. "Natural."

Kid had guts, that was for sure. Ace moved up to take a seat at the bar finally next to his brother, scowling before apologizing to Izo on his behalf. It was kind of obvious since his brother looked kid like, but Ace seemed to be the older and more polite one of the two. Marco rested his elbow on the table to just observe, calmly. But in usual Wild West fashion, as it seemed to be, he couldn't remain too calm and should expect the unexpected.

Like the kid's arms stretching to unimaginable lengths to reach over the counter and fix himself a drink - dodging Thatch's hand in the process.

He… he really must have had one of those fancy magical guns then, because that was definitely not medically possible. How the hell were these people even real? This couldn't have been historical. Needing to know, Marco lifted his head enough to glance down at the guy's belt. Lo and behold, a shiny gun, no doubt one of those devil ones. What he could do with one when he could obviously stretch, Marco wasn't sure, nor was he sure he wanted to know. Instead, he just rested his head back and let thoughts cloud his mind.

"Ah, Marco." Ace waved from his place on the other side of Luffy. "Mornin'. This is my brother Lu-"

"Monkey D. Luffy!" Luffy twisted his body around to face Marco, an expression of determination on his face. "Future king of the Wild West."

Monkey D. Luffy? Marco's eyes widened. Now that was a name he remembered from hearing Thatch talk about the Wild West. One of the best to roam the Wild West, this kid had places to go - Marco just never thought he'd get to meet him in the flesh and know what made him so great... and stretchy. That and he had no idea Monkey D. Luffy was the brother of Portgas D. Ace. Or that he'd just be some scrawny ass kid. It made his head hurt to think about it.

"Eh?" Luffy's look of determination faded into concentration, his head tilting to the side as he seemed to realize something. "You… Why do you look familiar?"

What? Why would Marco look familiar to him? Did he have a Wild West doppelganger too?

"Pineapple?" Izo suggested.

Freaking Izo.

Ace moved in before his brother could make any remark. Luffy let out a whine, ignoring his brother who had locked his arm around his neck, and they wrestled for a moment until the younger brother got free.

"Marco is new in town, Luffy, ain't no way you know him."

There was something oddly unsettling about being under that wide stare.

"Hmm… if you say so." The younger brother shrugged it off before turning back to sit straight in his seat. Then, his arms shot up into the air. "Izo, more food please!"

Izo stomped his foot down. "No way in hell. You'll clear out our whole kitchen!" He gritted out between his teeth.

Thatch seemed to agree with this. "Luffy, how about we talk first and I'll make you something personally, yeah?"

Marco slowly turned away from them, his eyes staring down at the counter's surface. Why did that feel so weird, it wasn't like he hadn't been stared at weirdly this whole time since waking up here. Something about there maybe being another him in this time period had him concerned. What would happen to him if he met someone in the past linked to him and things got changed up?

Luffy apparently liked Thatch's proposition. Slowly, he eased himself over the counter, like there were secrets to be shared. "I almost saw him a few towns over. It's true, he can't die."

The trio beside him, Thatch, Izo and Ace exchanged glances.

"How is that even possible…" Izo muttered, but Ace gestured him to stay silent a minute so he could ask something.

"Are you positive, Luffy? Did he have a gun?"

Luffy shook his head. "No, he just used a normal gun. He got knocked down a hundred times, but still took out the whole Scratchmen Apoo gang."

Ace let out a long whistle. "Damn. There's no way he could do that without a devil."

Thatch shook his head. "Luffy, did you get a good look at him?"

Luffy paused, sliding back off the counter and sitting in his seat. He took a long look at Ace then glanced at Marco. Before looking away he puffed his cheeks out like a pout, similar to how Ace had done the previous day. "No. I didn't see his face."

"Did you see any flames?"

Thatch's question seemed to grab all of their attention, even Marco looking over. Why would Ace and his flames be there… unless someone else had flames like Ace, he meant. Otherwise he couldn't think of any other reason it would be relevant.

"Well, he's called the phoenix. Phoenixes rise in their ashes and have flames, right?"

Luffy lowered his brows, slumping in his seat. It was obvious he was trying to remember if he had or not.

Ace patted him on the shoulder. "Little information is better than none, am I right?"

Luffy nodded. "Yosh." Then, up his arm's went once more. "Izo! Foooood!"


	3. Chapter 3

**III.**

The group jumped right into talking more about 'the Phoenix', whoever the hell that was. Usually Marco wouldn't care - why would he care about anything in the Wild West even if he was now apparently trapped in it? - except something about that name had his skin crawling. It was so familiar and then again at the same time it was foreign.

Apparently, the vigilante under that name was known for both good and bad deeds, or basically whatever the hell he wanted. He was known for easily taking down western crime gangs like they were a group of kids, but then turning around and robbing some of the most luxury of trains for this time period. If anything he wasn't good or bad, but more… indifferent.

"I still don't think he'll be that bad of a guy. He wants to start an alliance, isn't that what good people do?" Ace pondered, holding his mug a little bit away from his face.

He was receiving several skeptical looks from around the table where they had all relocated to.

"You're just saying that because the two of you exchange love notes, shishi," Luffy teased his brother, his feet on the table as he tried balancing with the two back legs of his seat. Kid was gonna end up falling straight on his ass, Marco was waiting for it.

So Ace was exchanging letters with this Phoenix guy, huh? That didn't make Marco feel any more optimistic. He wasn't jealous or anything, he was still a stranger to anyone here, but something told him he was forgetting some valuable information.

"Aren't all gangs alliances in their own right?" Thatch, his arms crossed, asked. His eyes were aimed across the table, watching Izo retreat to the backroom.

Ace shook his head. "No, this one is different, I reckon. It's a temporary thing to take down someone bigger."

"Who?" It was the obvious question.

Ace shifted in his seat. "What's it matter anyway? It's just going to be me going, don't yall get your panties in a bunch."

Luffy's chair landed back on all fours and the brother pounded on the table. "Ace." His voice was serious. "I think I should go with you."

"No way, Luffy. This is for the big kids."

The change on his expression was enough to know that Luffy didn't care for Ace's brotherly teases. But it was good he didn't try and argue with 'I am a big kid' or else he'd just prove his point.

"Then at least tell me who it is."

"Alright alright, fine." Ace sat his mug down on the table and lazily folded his arms behind his head. "It's Teach, alright? Happy?"

Teach?

Marco wasn't sure it was possible, but his chest might have been ripped out. Quickly, he rose from his seat.

"Excuse me," he muttered under his breath, moving toward the door. Unfortunately for him, he couldn't easily just sneak off.

"Hey, Marco, you okay?" He could hear Ace's voice call after him, but he just waved him off opening the swinging doors.

"Why's his face so red...?" Why did his brother have to be so curious all the time?

Outside, Marco had mistakenly meant to get some fresh air, forgetting for a moment he was in hell on earth. But it didn't matter, he just needed to be further away from their discussions and somewhere where he could think by himself. Running his fingers through his hair, he walked over to the edge of the deck and sat down, opting for the view of the terrain instead of the Wild West town himself.

All of these names were familiar to him somehow, he had to connect these dots. Maybe this was why he was sent back here, because of these names. Monkey D. Luffy was a well known name from the Wild West, but otherwise known for being one of the best, he didn't have any connections in the history books to the other. Finding out he was Ace's brother had been a surprise.

Ace was the first person he saw when he came here, if anything the events and reason he was sent back here had to revolve around him. If he remembered correctly, he had a few charges of arson, but that seems to just have revolved around his unique weapon. That he was sure of, it was something Thatch brought up like a fun fact. That stupid nerd.

He had been involved in lots of battles or something like that, whatever they did in the Wild West besides drink in saloons, on top of his game and unstoppable, but died very young. There had been a long period when he was Thatch's favorite cowboy so of course now that he thought about it, tons of information was coming back to Marco that he'd purposely tuned out. Man, he'd have to thank him again later. But how did he die? Wasn't it a betrayal?

Of course… Marco's blood might have been draining from his face. That other name was becoming familiar as well. The Phoenix. That name was just as well known as Luffy's or Ace's and had a few hollywood movies about him. Actually, Marco was sure his grandfather loved watching shows about him. He had an unstoppable streak, which included the death of… Portgas D. Ace, until being killed years later by… Monkey D. Luffy.

No way. No freaking way. Marco got up from where he was sitting, pacing back and forth on the ground on the side of the building. He was sent back right before Ace's death? How cruel, how awful, he just got to hear how he defended the Phoenix dude in advance when really he's going to kill him. And poor Luffy, he's being told to stay behind when his brother is about to die - he would never get over that; it's no wonder he got revenge.

History was cruel, why the hell did Thatch study and admire this stuff so much? Obviously, it had to be easier to do when one hasn't actually met the people involved. Admired their abs. Etcetera. Then of course there was the last name, the one that made Marco irrationally angry for reasons he wasn't totally sure of. Teach. If he was right, it was Marshall D. Teach, another who fell by Luffy, but deserved it. He wasn't known for being a nice guy, but it was written suspiciously so that he allied with Ace against the Phoenix before he perished.

This was all so confusing. Why couldn't he have brought a history book back with him? It would help so much. Again, Marco found himself sitting, but this time his ass was on the ground and his back was to the building. Two fingers on each side of his noggin, he circled at his temple, ignoring his bruise there.

What more should he know that Thatch told him about all of this? What did The Phoenix do, what was it that made him so unstoppable? Obviously, if this all was going down, it meant Marco was suppose to keep Ace from dying… right? After Thatch went through a stage of being an Ace fanboy, the Phoenix naturally fell into his obsession. Didn't he also write a book on him at some point?

Yeah. Yes, he did. Marco was starting to remember more now. It was so long ago - yet not long ago since it was technically set in the future - back when they were in college, and he was really starting to get into the history of the Wild West. He'd found something interesting enough that he had to bring it to the table one night and show their adoptive father.

"Look at this." Thatch had opened up a dirty, dusty old book that looked way overdue for falling apart, and placed it right on the desk.

Their adoptive father, Edward, looked down over the brim of his own book at what his son had brought him. It wasn't too hard for him, he had the genetics of a giant even in modern times, but so often he hunched himself lower for the sake of seeing what it was his son wanted to show.

Thatch was already jabbing his finger at an old photograph inside it. "Who do you think this looks like?"

Marco wasn't paying too much attention initially. He'd just come back from some late classes, the reason he was the only one eating dinner at the dinner table now. The last thing he wanted to do was look at more books or have to think anymore than he had to.

Edward let out a low grunt, placing his book down and leaning in just a bit more, grabbing the corner of the book to give it a better look. Whatever it was they were staring at had to be at least somewhat interesting, the blond supposed, as they both shared in some odd fascination with the past. Something Marco wasn't sure he cared about as much. He was thinking more about his future, what he was aspiring to instead. He never would've dreamed some info about cowboys would help with that.

It wasn't until they started speaking in even more hushed tones and holding the book up while they glanced in his direction that he really showed interest, glaring in their direction as he caught them mid glance.

"What, yoi? Say it." Being all secretive and shit, it was just cowboys, it wasn't like they weren't dying to gush about it anyway.

Thatch sighed, standing up from where he'd been leaning and taking his book. "So Pops, who would you say?"

Edward eased back into his seat. "I'd say it was the splitting image of Marco."

Marco sat up a little straighter. What looked like him? He swore if it was another picture of a donkey he was literally going to kick Thatch's ass.

Thatch playfully stroked at his chin, nodding. "That's exactly what I'm thinking. What if this is Marco's great great great grandfather-"

Alright, forget trying to ignore them. Marco pushed his chair back and walked over, snatching the book from his adoptive brother.

Irritated, his eyes quickly scanned the page. The left side was nothing but facts and nonsense that he didn't entirely care for, but the right side… Well, there was a picture. And he did somewhat surprisingly look like him. Actually, Marco sat down in the nearest chair, leaning his face even closer to it's pages.

"Did you photoshop this, yoi?"

Thatch let out a huff. "How low do you think I am that I would make something like this up? That's one of the few pictures even taken of him, you know, it's old and valuable and not _fake_."

It was like someone had pissed Marco off into some kind of funk with a western wedgie and put a cowboy hat on his head and called it authentic. Then again everyone in old western pictures looked like they had wedgies to him, trying to be badass - no wonder assless chaps were invented.

It wasn't him, Marco knew, but he couldn't help but feel a second hand embarrassment crawl up his back. Who was this guy, he wasn't really his great great great grandfather or something, was he? It was true he and Thatch weren't direct sons of Edward, but he'd much rather picture that then this.

"I'm pretty sure if I showed this to Izo he could recreate the costume-"

"Shut it." Marco shot his brother a glare, closing the book and handing it back, returning to his before behavior of acting uninterested. "Who was that anyway?"

Thatch smirked, opening the page back because he'd bookmarked it. Nerd. "_The Phoenix_. Rings a bell, doesn't it?"

Marco had two options here. Humor his brother and hear who he was, or play it off like he did. For some reason he felt like it would happen regardless. Sighing, his eyes looked over to their father figure, who only wore a genuine smile. Most parents probably wouldn't have handled two punks being punks at the dinner table, but he just seemed to always enjoy it.

"Marco." His father's voice always had a calming element to it. Filled with wisdom or something like that Marco didn't yet understand. "It never hurts to listen. One never knows when they might need even the most useless information."

"Pops." Marco's expression softened. "You really think I'm going to need something like this?"

"When the time comes." Edward's smile faded. "Perhaps."

Daddy's boy Thatch nodded, agreeing with him in a way that earned him that very nickname. "Besides this is good stuff, you know. He was known as undefeated and it was legend that he couldn't be killed-"

"How did he die then, yoi?" The blond chuckled at his brother's expression. What, he was just getting at if he was killed by someone that legend didn't seem very legit and Thatch's reaction seemed to answer it for him.

"He was defeated by Monkey D. Luffy, but-"

"Ah, see, he wasn't undefeated then-"

"But if you'd just listen." Thatch growled, moving to sit in the same seat as Marco, one that originally was supposed to belong to him. "I don't think that's what happened at all."

Marco hissed at him, moving his ass back to his own seat, but glowered at the open book. "You don't trust the history book?" He gave a skeptical look.

"Not a chance. Half this stuff is guessing. I don't think he betrayed Portgas D. Ace either."

"Portgas D. Ace?" Why did that name sound familiar?

"He was the one you were studying before, Thatch?" Ah, that was it. "Go on."

Dang Pops, did they really need to be fueling this fire? Thatch could go on until he was blue in the face.

"I think he was lured there by Teach and he did the dirty work, betraying Phoenix as well. That's why Luffy killed him, even when apparently he tried saving Ace."

Marco sighed, scratching at his head and pushing away his plate from earlier, no longer feeling hungry. "This sounds like a bad tv drama. Everyone knows the Phoenix killed Ace, don't sugarcoat it because he's your favorite character, yoi." Everyone probably didn't know, but it was better he sounded like he knew what he was talking about rather than didn't.

Edward, still sitting at the head of the table, chuckled lowly and reached out to pat Thatch's shoulder. "An interesting theory."

It made Thatch smile, finally closing the book, muttering some nonsense about how much he felt confident in it.

"Let's hope," Edward's eyes moved to catch Marco's, making him still. It was that parental glare that kept him in place. "Marco doesn't follow the same path."

Yeah, that wasn't suspicious or anything. Marco averted his eyes downward. Like hell he would ever be in that kind of weird situation. For one, he wasn't a stupid cowboy; second, his acquaintances weren't petty and fond of betrayals. Pops probably meant to look at it as some kind of moral lesson instead of a literal sense, but still Marco couldn't see where in his life he could apply such a thing. Instead, he took the smile and nod route and stood up, intent on cleaning up and heading to bed.

Marco's eyes were open and he silently stared and watched a scorpion crawl across the sand. He may or may not have been in a state of shock, not paying attention to any of his surroundings - not at the city, and most likely in the process of achieving a nasty sunburn. How was it only now of all times that memory came back so clear? What did Pops mean staring straight at him and hinting that this might be useful for him in the future. Did he know this was happening? Was he in on this with Thatch?

No, that was stupid thinking, plain and simple. Still, that picture he'd seen at the dinner table that night was etched in his mind with better quality than he'd ever seen it before. The Phoenix - the person they were talking about inside the saloon behind his back - was his Wild West doppelganger. It must've been his ancestor. He could've denied it now, but there was no other way of looking at it. And if history was right, he was going to kill Ace.

Granted, Marco had just met Ace so there shouldn't really be any sort of attachment between the two of them, but for some reason the blond didn't understand why he felt like he'd been fisted through the chest. Before he attempted being rational and not ruin time by mentioning anything about the future, but now he really felt like changing some of the past and making sure a certain someone didn't die. Why else would he be sent back to this moment and remember this happening?

Ace seemed like the type to be stubborn about what he wanted to do, though, so what course of action was Marco to take? He could risk, he supposed, a black hole appearing if he showed up and confronted his own ancestor. But fuck, they all had those magic guns, how was he supposed to fight with that?

Peeling his eyes up from the bright sand, Marco squinted outward and focused on the first green son of a bitch he could find. Cactus. Ace had found his in a cactus right? If this was his destiny to save Ace or confront his ancestor or all of the above, fate would have one of those guns waiting for him, correct?

Pulling himself up onto his feet, Marco felt like a moron. Thank God no one had cameras in this era and couldn't film what he was about to do. He sized the plant up, shaking his head as he did. This was going to be so stupid. At least he wasn't going to find himself landing on it and gaining a few freckles like a certain someone. Except he still didn't know how he was going to go about this.

He peered down and checked the quality of his boots. He could kick it a few times, that seemed reasonable enough. Swallowing thickly and stepping back a few paces, Marco got into position and gave the damn thing hell- Not.

What was he thinking? Fighting a cactus? Not worth it. Shamefully, he stepped away and back toward the saloon. He was a man of the future and, even more, he was a professor - there had to be something he could do other than pierce himself with pins looking for magic guns. Well, that was for thinking later, he was going to get heat stroke staying outside like this any longer. He was already sweating like mad.

The blond wiped his brow with the back of his hand, sighing in relief at the somewhat cooler air inside the building - no wonder they tended to like to stay in doors.

The brothers and Thatch were still sitting at the table talking amongst themselves, but did peek up when Marco approached and took his seat. Without missing a beat, he was going for his mug of water from earlier.

"Damn, Marco." Ace, sitting closest to him at his side let out a playful whistle and leaned in suspiciously close. "You're sweating like a pig."

Marco, gulping away, shot a glare but continued on. Bad country lingo wasn't going to keep him from hydrating himself. On his other side, Luffy, moved in just as close and prodded his arm. It provoked a reaction, Marco slipping it away and shaking it lightly. Unknown to him, his appearance was giving off a different impression than the truth, which was Marco didn't know shit about surviving in the desert.

Thatch just seemed amused, watching also as the brothers seemed to be communicating with one another silently and gesturing to Marco. The blond might've only had one adoptive brother in his life, but he knew enough the signs of brothers being little shits. Catching his breath and putting the glass down, his eyes slowly flickered from one to the other.

"What, yoi?" Their smiles were unsettling, damn.

Ace, still in his comfort zone, rested his elbow on the table and raised an eyebrow as he watched him. "So," He began. "How was it?"

How was what? Wait, they hadn't seen him about to fight a cactus bare handed, had they? No, there wasn't a window there, he should be safe from that. However, if it wasn't that, what were they getting at? Maybe they meant the water?

Marco furrowed his brows. "How was what?"

No, they wouldn't be acting so mischievously if it was just asking how refreshing the water was. Especially since Luffy was back to laughing with his 'shishishis'.

"You know," Luffy elbowed him lightly. The next words were so awkward coming from his childlike face. "Charming the cobra."

What?

Ace didn't miss a beat to chime in. "Assaulting on a friendly weapon."

What kind of cheesy sayings hell was this?

Luffy's eyes gestured to some place they never should've. "You know, holding your sausage hostage."

Ace's fingers were mimicking bunny ears as they made quotations - did people even do that in the Wild West?! "Getting to know yourself personally in a biblical sense."

Marco knew what they were getting at, he was just choosing not to react. What the hell were they, middleschoolers? Seriously, they thought he'd gone out there for awhile to- The brothers shared a high five across the table and carried on happily.

"Tickling your pickle."

Evil, what was he trying for? Ace had given him a wink. Like Marco knew what that was suppose to mean! "Yanking your doodle dandy."

The real impressive thing here was how many they knew. This must've been a common occurrence.

Thatch cleared his throat loud on purpose, catch both moron's attention. Apparently, he wasn't too thrilled with such suggestions in his fine establishment. Even if they were the only ones there.

Ace and Luffy both leaned back and sat in their seats like they should, both sharing a slight disappointment and pout in their own way. Thatch took it as obedience, but still was irritated when he looked over at Marco.

"They think you went out to jack off. There, I said it." Frustrated, he blew upward at his pompadour. "How they think anyone could in this heat, I can't reckon."

Was that from experience?

Out of nowhere, a rag met Thatch in the face and the attention moved over to Izo, who had just re-entered from the back room. Leave it to Izo to always amaze and leave them surprised. Today, instead of his ruffles, his outfit looked even more unique. The corset remained - of course Izo just seemed to be the type to love his corset - but the skirt was gone in replace for pants this time. He did, however, seem to be sporting the time period's only pair of high heeled steel toe boots.

Even Thatch seemed surprised by the outfit change, his mouth slightly agape. It was safe to say, Marco figured as he noticed the man's blush, several of the terms the brother had teased about? could be applied in his future.

"Says the man who always pudwhacks out back. I swear I leave y'all for a minute." Izo waltzed on over, glaring down at Thatch and moving his hand to shut his mouth for him. "Come on, me and you are heading into town."

"To... town?" Tongue-tied. Nerd. "What for?"

Izo's hand was intimate moving to cradle the poor man's cheek lightly, before, with his knuckles, Izo slapped both. "Poor thing. The lights are on, but nobody's home."

Then, instantly changing the mood, one of Izo's boots stomped Thatch's. "Who has time to sit around asking questions? Let's go."

It was so amusing to watch, Marco didn't mind a bit. Izo practically picked Thatch up by his shirt collar, guiding him in the direction of the swinging doors, a smile plastered on his face all the while and never missing a beat.

Ace sighed, giving Thatch the respect of not watching, but couldn't help a remark. "Dead man walking."

Luffy didn't seem to agree, watching them leave with a straight expression. "Izooo. Buy more meat."

It was so oddly still. Now that he remembered most of the stuff he'd forgotten before, to think he was sitting at the same table as such historical people. The guy who was killed by his ancestor and the guy that ended up killing his ancestor.

After Thatch and Izo left for their day on the town, the brothers went back to being dorks - performing tricks with the silverware and their glasses or sharing pointless stories of things they saw or did. It was interesting enough to listen in on, but Marco was thankful for not having much of the attention on himself for the most part of it - otherwise it would just turn into another session of how many ways can they say jacking off in an attempt to fluster him.

"Aceeee." Luffy was resting his head on his arms, looking up at his brother. "Let me go."

Ace shook his head. "Give it up, Luffy, I'm not taking you there. Don't you follow either, go home and back to your own gang."

The Monkey D. Luffy gang, Marco didn't know much about them. Did they help kill the Phoenix? Here's a good question - why weren't brothers in the same gang and why didn't they have the same name?

"Are you two really related, yoi?" At times they seemed unmistakingly alike, but other times polar opposites, from what Marco could observe anyway.

The two brothers exchanged glances, then both seemed to share a small but genuine grin.

"We're brothers, alright." Ace's voice held pride. "Not from the same parents, but we've been blood brothers and family since we were tykes."

Luffy's bottom lip over turned in a frown. "Saboo..."

"Luffy, don't." Ace's smile fell slightly. "What did I tell you about greatest outlaws crying?"

Marco raised his brow. Sabo…? That sounded familiar too, but his brain was too fried remembering stuff to explore another name.

Luffy glared, sitting up in his seat. "I'm not crying." How did that not sound like something a younger sibling would say, no matter what tone? "I ain't losing another brother. I'm going with you."

Ouch, nice one, Marco, bring up some hidden family scars. So Sabo was a brother they had lost. Not that it surprised Marco much, the Wild West was all about everyone killing one another apparently.

"No, you ain't."

"Yes, I am."

"Luffy!" Ace growled, raising his head a bit higher than his brothers.

"Ace!"

Every time one of them said anything their next goal seemed to be to make themselves bigger, or more in charge. Of course, this continued on until Luffy's neck was stretching past where it really should. And where he was using his unusual ability, Marco seemed to be able to notice a rather red aura around Ace and imaginary flames in his eyes.

Dammit, these brothers needed to stop arguing. They didn't know what Marco knew, but if Marco screwed this up and there wasn't a second chance, it could be one of the last times they see one another alive.

"Shut up, yoi." Marco couldn't help but grited the words through his teeth, trying not to get too uncomposed about it. "I'll go with Ace, so you can go back home."

Both of the brother's expressions read the same exact thing, Marco didn't even need to hear them speak it. 'Who the hell is this guy' and '_You_? You're going?'. Yes, he was quite aware he probably appeared to be useless, but he didn't want to think it was totally true.

Marco's eyes looked into Ace's. He wished he could just believe him for a minute and say he could, it would help his mission to keep him alive. Ace quickly pulled his eyes away, then looked back to his brother, a lack of words falling his lips.

"Y-yeah." He was slowly starting to get it now. "Marco will go with me, he's more than enough back up. Man's got the quickest draw this side of the river."

Now, wait a minute, Marco wouldn't go so far as to lie like that-

"You're lyin like a rug! He doesn't even have a gun."

Ace stopped to look Marco over. "Seriously?" Then back at Luffy, realizing what he'd said. "I mean, seriously Luffy, it's for our own good he doesn't."

The younger brother growled slightly, staring furiously at Marco, trying to read him. It was almost like before when he thought he'd recognized him somewhere, but this time he was really trying to remember and figure him out. Meanwhile, Marco was easily saying nothing and sitting calmly to fit in with the lies being said and internally hoping there wouldn't need to be some sort of draw to prove his worth.

"Swear it?" Luffy sounded like a kid usually, but this time, it was serious. It took Marco a little bit by surprise, it almost felt like he was actually going to intrust Ace to him or something and if shit hit the fan, he'd kill him. "On your life?"

Marco clenched his teeth. Yolo, right? "I swear it."

Luffy exhaled in relief, adjusting how he wore his hat before putting on his award winning smile and a laugh. What a personality change!

"Good! Ace, buy me something there."

Ace, who'd gotten quiet, shot his brother a look and moved to push his hat further down his face. "You little shit. Who's buying stuff for who?"


	4. Chapter 4

**IV.**

"Hey." Ace stopped for a minute, dropping his things on the ground right in front of the horse.

Marco isn't sure where he had gone to get one, Ace had wandered outside a little while after Luffy left to grab one, but it was a majestic beast and kept giving him an uncomfortable stare down. The blond hadn't gotten a chance to ask him when exactly he was planning to leave and go off to confront his death, but considering he was hooking stuff onto the horse's saddle, now seemed to be the time. He wasn't even going to say goodbye to Thatch or Izo, or did they already know his plans?

The freckled man turned, looking Marco over, pursing his lips in the process. "Hey uh," He lifted his arm up, scratching at the back of his neck before standing right before him. It was kind of cute - _kind of_. "I appreciate you swearing to Luffy you'd come, but really you don't have to."

No, Ace you didn't understand, he did have to. Otherwise you'd be walking right to your grave. Marco let out a huff, letting his shoulders relax.

"I swore on my life, yoi." One cannot simply tease Marco the last two nights and expect to brush him off so easily. "Besides, I'm a traveler, yeah? Least I can do is join you there."

Ace seemed conflicted. Marco wasn't sure if it was because what they'd been joking out before was actually truth – that there had been secret love letters between him and Phoenix, and Marco's intervening would ruin the romance, or if he was worried about Marco's well-being tagging along on a trip he was planning to do solo. Which, both were stupid. Either he'd find out the Phoenix looked just like him or Marco would die try to save his life – there was no losing here.

"Look, I can get myself a gun if that's what you're worried about, yoi-"

"No, no it ain't that. It's just..." Ace looked back to the horse and its saddle a few moments, then looked at Marco with absolute seriousness.

"You look like a man who enjoys bareback."

Against his will, Marco's face flushed. Bareback- what? Why in the hell did Brokeback Mountain come to mind? That was the absolute last movie he should be thinking of.

"Ha." Ace slapped his thigh, laughing as he reached down and got what was left of his loot to hitch up. "You're a hoot, you know that, Marco?"

A hoot, yeah, he'd have to remember that at some point or something. That was a cruel joke, even for a cowboy.

Finishing tying his stuff up, Ace patted onto the saddle. "Alright, you can come with me, but on one condition." For emphasis he held out his pointer finger, singling the number.

Marco, his face still sour as he anticipated the next tease – yes, he was slowly developing trust issues – huffed. "What?"

"You ride in the front and I'll steer from the rear."

That didn't make sense. Didn't the one steering sit in front usually? It was bad enough to have to try and prepare himself for being up and close against Ace's body while they traveled for who knows how long, but in order for him to steer from that position he would have to... Keep his arms at Marco's sides the whole time. How important again was it not to let this guy just die?

Ace was smirking and on purpose he stretched his arms. "What's wrong, Marco, getting cold feet? Don't want me to keep you warm?"

It wasn't that so much… fuck it. Marco brushed passed him, putting his foot in the first stirrup before swinging the other around and getting on the horse. It surprised him how well that went for a first try, fully expecting to making a fool of himself like every other thing he'd done in the Wild West, but it went well and the horse didn't seem to mind. Ace seemed pleased too, beaming up at the blond before climbing on himself and situating behind Marco.

The professor had never been so tense. It was so weird and awkward and, damn, the sun was really hot right now. He was sure to keep to himself, but somehow Ace's arms made their way under his and reached for the reigns. They had to look ridiculous. The taller guy and the one not in charge of controlling the horse should've been in the back. What was Marco doing, he never would've let a guy get what he wanted as much as this. It had to be because of his maybe near demise playing on his conscious.

Ace didn't prod at him anymore, thankfully, just starting them off on their journey to the next town with a flick of the reigns. Then, like an asshole, he leaned slightly in while he directed it out of the town. Still Marco couldn't help slowing his breath down for stupid reasons anyway, taking a glance back at the saloon they'd just left. Silently, he wished the Wild West Thatch and Izo well.

-0-

Apparently Ace knew what he was doing. Thanks to him, they'd left the first town at a precise time that worked out well - leading them into the next around sunset. In terms of the town itself, it was easily twice the size of the last, and fairly crowded. The amount of hotels and inns were doubled as were the random amount of people walking the streets preparing for the evening.

"This place ain't bad is it?" Ace eventually asked, nodding off to some strange woman staring at them - because of course people had to stare at the spectacle that was how they chose to travel.

Each stare always had Marco taking a quick jerk to his head to stare somewhere else, at another building. Even if it was bigger, it was nothing compared to the towns back in the future. He wondered, a little curiously, what Ace's reactions to those would be. Probably culture shock.

"It's alright." He muttered. "Where are you meeting this Phoenix guy, yoi?"

Around, people were lighting up lanterns.

Ace led the horse off to the side, in front of a classic Wild West inn and slid off the side. "Not meeting him till tomorrow. Figure I'll get us a room for tonight, what do you say?"

Marco looked the place down and gave a shrug of approval. So Ace wasn't going to part ways with him just yet, the blond couldn't exactly lie and say he wasn't at least a smidge happy about that. He slid off the side as well, not as elegantly, but technically his feet met the ground.

"Stay out here and tie her up." Marco turned to look at Ace while he retrieved something from his pocket and offered it up to their horse. "I'll grab some water and grab a key. Don't go wandering off around here."

Avoiding the horse while it gave a sneeze, Ace approached Marco, staring into his eyes.

"It might look like a big safe place, but the bigger the place, the more people who don't want to be found. Get what I'm saying?"

It took a moment, but Marco nodded. So it was just a town with a bunch of outlaws using its population to hide. Well, every neighborhood had its risks and flaws, he supposed. It was nice being outside right after sunset here though. The smells of someone else's dinner lingering around - they'd already eaten dinner on the road, in an awkward silence - and the sound of music from one of these taverns.

A few moments later the doors opened, and Ace jumped soared over its deck, landing on both feet at once like a big kid. "Alright Marco, I found us and the horse a place for the night so let's skedaddle."

Without missing a beat, he moved to take the reigns and walk the horse over. Marco, not sure what else to say but to trust in Ace's directions, watched him read a scratchy map. At this point, if he had to be honest, he was just rolling with everything. It was the Wild West, he was here for who knew what, he didn't have time to be overly conscious about everything.

Marco didn't expect their room to be here, in a barn, however. For awhile, he had wondered if the inn had a second building, but now that he thought about it, it made more sense. Ace probably had a free room like he had at Thatch's place, and this was the equivalent to free in this town. At least the horse would be comfortable, if anything.

Ace skipped on in, taking the reign off the beauty the minute the doors were shut. "Here we are, girl, you rest easy, alright?"

Playfully, he turned around, nudging a pile of hay with his boot. "You've got all you could ever eat and more."

Ace didn't seemed phased at the idea at sleeping here - it was probably usual for outlaws or any kind of cowboy to be prepared to sleep wherever. But Marco couldn't help but be curious if Ace specifically stayed in places like this a lot instead of in the city on a real bed. He continued to watch as he looked around and hopped on the first step of a wooden ladder leading to a loft upstairs.

Ace paused then, slowly turning with his balance to glance at Marco. When their eyes met, he smiled. "Are you just going to stand there? Grab the stuff, pony up.".

Since when was he the one who got to call the shots? Marco wasn't gonna argue though, he finished taking the saddle and the supplies off the horse. The poor thing seemed a bit grateful - it did have to carry around two awkward grown men all day. Gently, Marco pet its nose and gave it a pat of thanks. Hopefully, it wouldn't have to go through that again - carrying two men. Instead just Ace, while Marco went back to his real time.

The blond started up the ladder, careful where it decided to make creaking noises then hesitated up top. Over the edge, he could see Ace scattering around, trying to lay out some blankets he must've found. He really didn't need to do that - it was a barn, Marco was expecting nothing but hay, but the gesture was something else. Marco didn't mind a bit, it kind of made him smile when he finished climbing up.

Ace pounced down on one of the blankets that laid over some hay, landing on his side and propping his head up with his arm. What was he trying to do, model for pin ups?

"What do you think? I figured with the blankets we should share. It shouldn't be that bad. I don't kick that much-"

Marco couldn't help but snort to himself, stepping over to what he assumed to be his side of the makeshift bed.

"I think," he started, dropping the stuff down in between them. "That you're a dork, yoi."

Ace was pulling off his hat and placing it off to the side when he looked back up at him quizzically. "Dork? What in tarnation is a dork?"

Marco's smile grew wide at hearing him saying it in his accent and legitimately not knowing what it meant. He could get used to calling him things he didn't understand.

"Don't worry about it."

Ace narrowed his eyes, moving to clamp his hands around Marco's ankles and pull him down onto the blanket with him. Marco's eyes widened before he fell onto the floor, groaning as he sat up. Damn tease, he would have sat down on his own in a minute. Hurriedly, he went to take off his boots, but Ace was impatient.

"Come on, tell me." He sat up now, scooting closer.

Marco turned his face to look at him. "Fine, alright, I'll tell you, yoi-"

Awkward. This was a smaller area than he had originally anticipated, their faces weren't that far apart and neither were their bodies. For some reason being close here in the barn, off the damn hose, was a lot different than being close before. Marco swallowed thickly.

"It means..." For some reason, his mind was pretty blank and he couldn't think of any sort of definition for the word. Instead, he decided to describe it by what he meant. "It means a playful stupid. Kind of cute."

Ace's eyebrows raised and, for once, there seemed to be some red among his freckles. "Cute?" He awkwardly coughed, looking away. "Who says that, we're men."

Why did things like that have to matter in the Wild West? Marco was so modernized, he had no patience for it. His eyes studied Ace's face closely, his teeth clenched and he had to resist doing anything. Or at least try as hard as he could.

"Hey, Marco." Ace's eyes hesitantly moved their way back to look into the blond's. "Can I-"

Too late. So easily Marco was compromised, and it was his palm carefully pushing Ace back into the blanket while their lips met. It was hard not to see the surprise yet acceptance on Ace's face from Marco making the move first, but Marco's eyes closed. He'd feel less guilty if he could just enjoy this before being shoved off.

Except the shove he was expecting never came. Instead he felt Ace's calloused hand move, his arms brushing his back - fingers tangling in the very back of his hair. Their bodies close like this was scorching, but in the way they both approved and could easily been mistaken as intimate.

Marco's eyes slowly opened, finding Ace's watching him. His face was considerably more red, but there was something else. The way his eyes had changed, become almost tired… it was an expression he'd seen once before, right before a certain someone's face landed on a counter. It was Ace's sleep face. Which was unfortunate in more ways than one, and, considering how Ace's part of the kiss slowly dwindled as if he was fighting it, it seemed the cowboy wasn't too thrilled about it taking over.

It made Marco feel a little better when he pulled away, hovering over Ace's body while his arm rolled off lazily. His eyes closed and lightly from his mouth, he snored. Marco sighed, running his hands through his hair. Damn, they had made some sort of progress - just not of the saving Ace's life variety. He was falling hard for this dork.

Marco looked down silently back at Ace's face, studying it. The guy really did have a lot of freckles scattered about. He was half tempted to continue staying there and counting them - half tempted, but thought it for the better he didn't. Otherwise he might really have to hold his sausage hostage or something like that.

The professor pulled himself off, covering Ace with the blankets before getting up on his feet. It was too hot in here after their mouth-play, the night air would be good to clear his conscience? . It never hurt to walk around and browse an authentic Wild West town on what should be his last night here as well.

Careful not to make too much noise, he crept down the ladder and moved toward the door. The guy should get a full nights sleep without any interruptions, no one knew what would really go down the next day after all. Marco spared one last look up at the loft, and the horse, then slipped out shutting the door behind him.

It was night, but by no means was everyone asleep. Just like the other town, everyone seemed to like to get together to drink and talk and dance or a combination of all of the above. Marco didn't care for it, it was better he didn't get wasted right now or meet more strangers from the sands of time. He found the inn they'd arrived at earlier, and made sure to commit it and the path he took from the barn to memory so he'd be able to find it properly.

The desert at night was cool, but not too cold, but again, that could've been from Marco's recent heat wave as well. What was he doing, getting so easily attached to the guy we was supposed to be saving? Why did this feel like a disaster in the making? What if like Thatch and Izo having ancestors like themselves, Ace was supposed to end up with he Phoenix or some madness like that and Marco was being selfish? Though, was that really a problem? After all, the Phoenix would kind of kill Ace so...

He didn't like to think about it. Marco weaved off into an alleyway, using it as a shortcut to walk toward another area of town. Even if what had just happened between the two of them hadn't happened, he wasn't sure he would ever be able to sleep. He felt restless and anxious. The blond stopped before he found the other end's exit and leaned against the outside of one of the buildings. What was he going to do? He didn't even have a gun. He could buy one, but with what funds? .He woke up here in the right attire, but absolutely broke and without anything at all. Fate was such a bro setting him up like this.

Lost in his own thoughts, Marco nearly missed hearing the first shattering round of 'Zehahahaha' behind him. He didn't recognize it, but it was odd enough it had his skin crawling. He stood up from where he was shifting his weight and leaning, then half turned back to see a rather large shadow at the end of the alley from where he'd come.

It was a grizzly man, he didn't know him or what kind of business he wanted, but he approached with his own style of waddle. There was a gun at his hip - no ordinary one, Marco was quickly starting to recognize - and a knife on the opposite side. Ace had hinted at there being other types of outlaw's around, Marco couldn't see this ending well.

Maybe if he just acted like he didn't know him and kept walking back onto the street-

"_Zehahaha_." Such an ugly laughter. "Marco, don't act so cold."

What? He had just called him by his name, hadn't he? Marco's body tensed and, slowly, he turned back around. His heart had sped up and he could hear it in his ears.

The man, carrying his own brand of rotten around with him, stopped a few feet away and had a grin plastered to his face. It looked like it had been there permanently all day, and the rest of his face was straining from it.

"Or wait, you said you prefer Phoenix."

Marco had never said that. He'd never met this guy in his life. Who was he, what did he know and what did he mean by that? Was he mistaking him for the Phoenix because they looked alike? But he had called him Marco, how could he have known.?. Surely, the Phoenix hadn't .only stolen his appearance, but his name as well? Bottom line, Marco figured it best he'd not stir the pot.

"I hope our last fight is water under the bridge." His smile said a lot differently. His words seemed friendly, but his intentions were most different. Maybe another person wouldn't, but Marco was getting nothing but rough vibes. "I told them distinctively not to leave you with nothing but your clothes, but..." That fucking laugh, and he had the nerve to gesture at him with his hand. "Here you are."

Them? He had some people strip the Phoenix? Who was this guy? Marco took a deep breath, but again didn't speak. It was probably for the better, as he was able to see the man's reaction next as he narrowed his eyes. Passive aggressive much?

"But I told you to stick with me and come along to the meet. There was no reason for you to go to that two horse town." The man licked at his lips. "Portgas D. Ace will come on his own. He can pull up his own britches."

Damn right he could. Still. This man knew about Ace and the meet up? Then, this guy could only be one person. Marco honestly wished he wasn't right, but there was a feeling in his gut that after realizing it, knew it to be true.

"Teach?" He breathed out.

The man swayed his body in confusion, but nodded his head, breathing in deeply. "Phoenix, you haven't called me that in years." Unintentionally, Teach was amused. "We agreed on Blackbeard."

It was very hard to believe that this was the guy who saved Ace in the end. Marco kept eye contact.

"Be haste tomorrow, you know this plan will not work without you. I wouldn't want to have to drag you out to meet your dear friend."

Plan? For a hero, his words were sounding very suspicious. If this was a meetup of friends gone awry like the history books said, should Teach be clueless as to what would happen? He was supposed to just be there, wasn't he, surprised by the Phoenix's master plan?

"Plan?" Desperately, he held in his own 'yoi', just in case the Phoenix didn't often use it.

For once, Blackbeard's grin finally seemed to dwindle down and his cheeks seemed thankful for it. "$500 bounty split. And for your half, I wont kill you."

Zehahahaha.

Five hundred dollars? That was it? Marco knew that was a high amount in these times but for fucks sake, that was all Ace was worth? Marco found himself angry. This fucker didn't deserve any of that. Marco had to get Ace out of here and away from this town. Even if he had to drag him and be burnt to charcoal in the process.

"You've got the wrong guy, yoi." Marco shook his head.

Blackbeard was no longer amused. "Could've fooled me. You're even wearing the same clothes I left you with."

Carefully, Marco glanced down at himself. Then something inside of his mind, which was on lockdown mode during such a confrontation, just clicked. The things Teach had been saying. That they split up and the Phoenix had gone toward the town where Ace was at, that he'd been stripped bare of everything but his clothes - the same clothes he was wearing now that Blackbeard could identify.

It was something Marco so desperately didn't want to connect the dots with, refused to believe but now it was staring at him right in the face. Everything was lining up. Marco didn't have an ancestor here or a Wild West doppelganger. He was the Phoenix. And for some reason that did nothing but strengthen his panic, he could hear his Pops and see the look in his eyes from that dinner table memory he'd recalled not long ago.

"_Let's hope_," The words were fucking echoing, he couldn't block them out even if he tried. "_Marco doesn't follow the same path._"

Did he know? Did everyone else around here know except him? He didn't want to be the Phoenix, he liked being just Marco instead - Marco from Pineapple Land. At least then he wasn't... he wasn't the guy who killed Ace. No, he was supposed to put an end to this, he couldn't kill Ace. Ace needed to get out here, right now. He wanted to help him, he would help him, he wasn't going to betray Ace with this bastard, he refused. Suddenly, he wanted nothing more than Thatch's dinner table theory to be correct, that the only real bad guy here was Blackbeard. Except, Marco felt so lost, not even sure what to think of himself to even confidently believe it.

The Phoenix, that bastard who emotionlessly took down gangs without taking any damage. _He got knocked down a hundred times, but still took out the whole Scratchmen Apoo gang. - No. I didn't see his face._ No wonder Luffy had almost recognized him. Luffy had been the real deal just days before. And the one who'd entrusted his brother's protection to his future killer.

Talk about identity crisis - had Marco even been in the future or was it all a dream after he'd been hit by the rock? Even if he still had been sent here into the body of the Phoenix, it was impossible to call them one in the same, he wasn't invincible and unstoppable. There was hope if for some reason things turned bad - Ace could kill him in a last ditch effort. Still, this was unsettling. If he'd forgotten there was no way for him to remember what type of relationship he did have with this son of a bitch. History said they were comrades and did a few gigs together, which is why the 'betrayal' was so huge on both parts, and Blackbeard had played victim. What did he have over them - surely, they weren't friends.

Marco was calling bullshit in advance, the asshole himself had said he'd be taking Marco's half of the reward money for Ace. He must've out ranked him in power. The blond's eye went back to that gun. That had to be it - whatever ability he was granted from the weapon was too intimidating to the Phoenix who didn't have one of his own. Even Luffy had said The Phoenix used normal guns. That must be a power that could consume Ace's fire then. Dammit, Marco wanted to punch himself in the face. Why on earth hadn't he just ripped that cactus to shreds?

The smug grin was back on Blackbeard's face as he watched Marco.

"Reckon I help you remember?" He licked over his teeth. "You know I love our games."

Games? The next few moments were nothing but a blur. Marco couldn't even register what was happening, it was like in advance he was in a state of shock - or more focused on the thoughts racing through his brain than what was actually happening. Blackbeard was quick, his hand swinging over to his side to grasp the handle of his knife and in a swift moment he plunged it forward.

Marco didn't feel anything right away, but he heard it - that sound effect that always made him slightly wince and look away from horror movies for awhile. He couldn't help but gasp out, like the air in his lungs had been stolen from him. Slowly, his chin lowered and he looked down at the sight he dreaded to see. The knife, filled with all its Wild West bacteria was fucking inside his gut. This couldn't be happening- he couldn't die now. What about Ace! He had a reason to be here he couldn't die.

Blackbeard laughed, patting himself on his gut before giving Marco a single, half hearted wave. "Return it to me tomorrow, Marco. Don't be late. I heard birdies hate being stuck in the dark."

He wasn't even going to finish the job? It wasn't like Marco had anything on him that was worth a mugging, but this was dirty work, he was scum. His hands were shaking and he held them inches from the blades handle and tried not focusing on the blood that was starting to ooze. It was wet, it was cold. This was dying? He'd never felt this type of pain or pressure before.

Marco's fingers finally curled around the handle and, desperately, he tried to think of what he knew about injuries, muggings and stab wounds. His inner conscious kept repeating itself. Don't pull it out, don't pull it out, don't pull it out. It made him growl out at his own stupid thoughts. It wasn't like it would matter if he bled out - there wasn't some kind of hospital or emergency number he could call. His body was going more and more into shock.

He fell down to his knees, cradling the knife. His body was a mix of temperatures now, cold and hot and all of the above. He was dying, this was dying, wasn't it?

Taking in a raspy deep breath, he braced himself and pulled. His eyes widened. There was nothing but flames. Blue flames.


	5. Chapter 5

**V.**

There should have been blood gushing into his hands. Hell, even his guts or intestines would've made sense. Way more than what he was witnessing with his eyes. From the edges of his wounds there were flames, where they'd come from he didn't know ,but they were none like he'd seen before. They weren't like Ace, they were golden and blue. They weren't scorching either, they were calm. The tips of each flame seemed to stretch out to the next and stitch themselves together.

Even the blood still on the knife became engulfed in tiny embers, vanishing into nothing and leaving a clean knife. Instantly, Marco dropped it, and his hand went to his wound. The flames didn't hurt them, but he felt them like they were an extension of his own. When his fingertips were supposed to touch wound, they found no such thing. The fires died out quickly as they came and he was nothing but fine. The wound had been fixed up magically.

Marco was mortified and stunned at the same time. He prodded and pushed at the spot to find no tenderness there, instead, he was perfectly fine. How could this be? None of this added up. Was this how The Phoenix was unstoppable? _Well, he's called the phoenix. Phoenixes rise in their ashes and have flames right? _Even the western Thatch was smarter than initially anticipated. So he was indeed the Phoenix, not only by name, not only by face, but body and ability as well.

He didn't have one of those devil guns though. How could someone have such a healing ability without one? Didn't they need them to be able to do their attacks? Luffy even said he never had it before… Gah, it didn't matter. Marco moved slowly, his hand reaching out to touch the side of the nearest building and pull himself hesitantly to his feet. Every moment he expected some sort of recoil, for the stab wound to come back in a slice of pain, but it never came.

Marco could spend lifetimes trying to think about the science behind it, but the part of his mind that was somewhat staying sane through all of this told him not to waste his time. Instead, he picked up the knife - a bitter thought crossing his mind how he could return it- before heading back down the alley way. He wasn't sure if he'd even be able to control himself tomorrow, the way things were easily spiraling out of control and he was being hit in the face with realities he'd never considered.

When Marco returned back to the barn and went back up to the loft, he wasn't sure if it was fortunate or unfortunate to have found Ace still resting peacefully as he had left him. Part of him wanted to pick Ace up, toss him over the back of the horse and smack its rear to get it to carry him far away. But how long would that last? Easily he could wake up and try and find his way back.

Waking Ace up here seemed pointless as well. All the shit would hit the fan the following day, Ace needed any and all rest just in case. It seemed whether Marco liked it or not confrontations would be had. He just hated feeling like this - uncomfortable and uncertain what would happen tomorrow. To think he'd wanted to find himself some kind of power in order to help, Ace but now that he found out he actually had one, it was intimidating. Was it just the healing - would he be able to control it? It didn't need a gun so was it even the same kind?

Marco wasn't sure what he would do if he ended up fulfilling the fate history books had made for him. Silently, his head hung low, he looked at Blackbeard's dagger in his hand. It looked hardly used, none of Marco's blood in sight. The blond clenched his grip around it, turning away from the slumbering Ace. Maybe, his rational mind desperately tried to logic, it was just his eyes playing tricks on him. This could have been Teach's power trying to trick him, that could've been it, right?

Either way, he was going to find out. There were too many people out in the town that could spot any sort of light outside the barn, so he chose to stay in. Leaving the loft and retreating further into the barn under it, his expression matched that of the horse; which was neither knew what the hell was going on. Marco, not totally out of it, raised his finger to his lips, like the animal could actually understand, before falling back into a pile of hay.

Above him he could hear Ace's snores - they were actually comforting in a bittersweet way. It made Marco feel a little better about what he was going to do. All of this was just confirmation, he needed to know if he could do it again. To what extent did it work?

In front of him he extended his hand, his eyes focusing on what he could see of his palms in the dark. In his other hand he brought up the knife, his edge lightly pressing into his skin. What was he doing? He felt so stupid, but he needed to see it again - the blue flames. The Phoenix's flames.

Marco clenched his teeth, finding it hard to pull his gaze away when he made the cut, witnessing as his skin tore from the blade - feeling the pain shoot through his hand. One second, the blood was coming now. Two seconds, he lowered the knife, his face slightly paling because he might have been just an idiot. Three seconds, blue.

Starting from nowhere in particular, the blue flame ignited and crackled its way up his palm's wound, sealing it shut like it was nothing. Marco didn't even have to summon it or will it to, nor give some kind of attack name, it just healed him instantly. Again the blood that had been on the blade too had disappeared. He was like a Phoenix, literally, the flames healed him.

But maybe that time was a mishap as well. Again he tried. Then another angle. Perhaps it only worked with a knife. Each time his skin was return just as it was before, healthy and untouched. It helped explain why Marco didn't have a terrible sunburn, but it added to his worry. At some point, he didn't find himself even pay attention anymore, his eyes staring at the flames while his hand pulled the knife down, paused, repeated. Ace couldn't save himself and kill him if he could heal this well, nor did it help him in anyway against blackbeard.

Earlier he'd assumed Blackbeard must've been packing a power that could even overcome his new found healing, this battle was set in stone already, wasn't it?

Marco's mind kept going back to what his father had said too. Pops, this was cruel, his words felt like they held such certainty now. Why had he known Marco Was going to go through this, and why was he having to go about it alone?

"What the hell are you doing?!" An actual voice that wasn't in his thoughts startled Marco, his hand slipping and the knifes blade going off course down his arm. His heart tried to quickly cooperate? the sudden stop and, before he could even look, Ace was ontop of him, his hands moving to hold and apply pressure to his arm. "What's the matter with you?"

Marco's eyes were wide, his first instinct to take his free hand to Ace's shoulder and push him away. No, dammit, why hadn't he been paying attention to when the snores stopped? He couldn't see him heal, if Ace saw the flames, Marco wasn't sure what the hell he would do. He'd spill everything all at once rather than try lying to Ace more about what was going on. Maybe that was long over due in it's own right.

Ace grunted, but stayed firm not to move his hands from the wound, cursing under his breath each way the he must've known how to.

"Let it go, yoi," Marco urged him, unable to do control his tone in the process. "It'll be fine, it'll heal!"

Ace flipped his head back, shooting him a glare, and Marco's chest sunk. He… he really hadn't expected so much concern on Ace's face. Not when usually he was nothing but beaming confidence. They both probably shared idiotic concerned faces.

"Heal?" Ace repeated, using the word to fuel what he was about to yell next, but all the words were quickly swallowed when blue shone against his face and Marco's ability went into effect.

Ace's eyes looked down at how it snuck through his fingers and reactively stumbled back. "Blue..." he breathed out, quickly looking to his hand as to verify it wasn't something he'd summoned, then stared the flames down.

He looked down at his fingertips, the blood that had stained them from Marco's wound still ablaze. They weren't hurting him, but it invoked a reaction of Ace's own flames, quickly shoving Marco's flames off with a hiss, to put it nicely. "Phoenix flames…"

Both their lights went out around the same time, and the dark partnered with silence to drop down heavily. Ace had seen Phoenix flames before, or heard of them then? It couldn't be because he knew the Phoenix, otherwise he would've recognized Marco right away. What did the letters they sent back and forth once upon a time share exactly?

Ace clenched his fist, bringing it back down to his side. His brows were furrowed and his eyes downward, he was definitely trying to understand what was happening. Finally, he lifted his chin and glared at Marco. No longer was the country boy going to be in the dark, he wanted his answers so he would get them.

"What's happenin' here?" His words were stern. "Marco?"

Marco turned his face away. Damn, he was so mad - but, hell, Marco was mad just as well! It didn't seem like he could just play silent in this conversation and things would blow over, not by a long shot.

"I'm not sure." He wanted to sound as honest as he could convey, but half of it relied on how much Ace wanted to believe.

"Not sure? How can you be not sure? What in the hell is this?" Ace gestured to what had just happened. "Talk to me." He reached out and squeezed Marco's leg, his tone dancing between telling and demanding.

That was the thing, Marco wanted to talk to Ace. He wanted to tell him everything - but where the hell was he supposed to start? The story went every zig zag way, over and under, and no matter where he started, he would sound stupid as hell. Marco exhaled deeply, moving his hand up to run his fingers through his hair. Damn, he felt guilty and he really didn't mean to tick Ace off. It was time to be adults about this.

Marco's eyes flickered back to stare at Ace's face a long moment. Here went nothing.

"I think I'm the Phoenix." That wasn't a lie. "But I don't know."

Ace blinked a few times, stealing a glance at the place where Marco's wound had been once, and kept his ground. "You do have the flames." He muttered that part to himself. "How do you not know? Either you are or you ain't."

"I can't remember anything. All I remember is waking up to you and then some asshole," Marco gestured toward the barn door, meaning in town. He thought it best not to mention the future. "stabs me in the stomach and then there's these flames and… I don't know, alright, I just found out myself, yoi."

Ace was in disbelief. "Can't remember?" He let out a chuckle that sounded almost sad, his frame finally seeming to relax. "That time you hit your noggin and you were talking about the tele whatsits. Should've known it'd done damage. "

What was that supposed to mean? "No wonder Luffy thought you looked like somebody. Or you weren't burned by Hotarubi. If you didn't remember, why didn't you just say so?"

Because going on an adventure to find lost memories of a life he couldn't remember living wasn't the main goal here. It was to save Ace, after all, and it was better stupid stuff like his cluelessness didn't cloud it.

"You don't even remember the letters then, I reckon. Or the meetup?"

Marco shook his head, then sat up straight. "No, but that doesn't matter, yoi. You have to get out of here."

"It does too matter!" Damn, unintentionally Marco's words had stung. Ace turned his head away, looking over at the sleeping horse. "Why do I have to leave? If you think you're gonna hurt me, that's a load of horse crap." His voice lowered. "On the outside, anyway."

That was only the equivalent of hitting Marco in the head with a brick. He felt even more scummy, if possible. "You're aren't safe here. The meetup tomorrow is a set up. If you go, you'll die."

"You don't know me, I can handle things myself. Besides you're the one who told me to be there."

He must've been referring to an old letter or something. "I take it back, yoi! If you go, Teach is going to collect your bounty. It'll happen."

Ace refused to look back at him. "Teach? Your best pal Teach? You really have lost it, he can't hurt me."

Regardless of consequence, Marco lunged, grabbing Ace's arm and pulling him toward him. He didn't dare look at his face, instead, he rested his head against Ace's Body, biting into his own lip. He didn't mean to get emotional, but now that he had the chance to say anything it didn't matter.

"Ace," he managed out, his hand holding onto him tightly, but not enough so that his fingernails would hurt. "I think he's going to use me. I've seen it happen..." Silence. " I'll kill you."

Marco had believed his imagination was running wild, but he swore he could just picture it going down, each aching and unbearable second of his death.

Every part of Marco wanted Ace to just believe and trust him, to take what he was saying seriously. Sure, maybe for Marco they had only met awhile ago and he didn't remember what went on between the Phoenix and Ace. Did he need to remember to understand this underwhelming need to keep him alive? It wasn't for selfish reasons to keep him by his side, he knew that wasn't an option, and no longer was it just about getting home. He was delusional to think it ever was.

Ace slowly lifted his hand, his palm pushing Marco to sit back up and let him go. Still, he didn't look up at him. "You saw me die?" Why wasn't he more surprised or panicked? "In one of your lives?"

Lives? What did that mean? The Phoenix had told him he had other lives? It made no sense, but all the same it did. Every time a Phoenix rose again from it's ashes, it started another new life, the Phoenix must've let Ace know about it. Did that mean Marco wasn't crazy, he'd just been sent back to a previous life?

Apparently, Marco's silence was enough of an answer for Ace, who continued to slither away from him until he was up on his feet. He took two steps back toward the loft, before stopping.

"It ain't our place to stop our big fates, Marco." He clenched his hands into tight fists. "You just gotta keep pushing forward and hope you get drawn the better hand."

One last time he turned to look Marco over before returning to the loft. "Goodnight, _yoi._"

Marco's throat swelled, and he grabbed the knife in anger, throwing it across the barn. Damn, damn, dammit. He was so mad - mad enough that flames sparked at his feet, but he just stomped them away, they were some of the last things he wanted to see right now or have Ace notice the light.

That didn't go according to plan at all. Marco was supposed to tell Ace he was going to die and to stay away, and Ace was supposed to listen, not accept whatever might come his way. Who willingly went into something they knew there was big potential they'd die in? Oh, everyone who was anyone with an ambition in the Wild West like Ace?

-0-

"Marco."

Marco's brows furrowed and he shifted in his sleep, groaning at how scratchy the hay was under him. Why didn't he steal one of the blankets from the loft?

"Marco." There was an uncomfortable poke to his side. "Come on, say it."

Slowly, one of his eyes opened, gazing out at the blurred vision of Ace. It could have been him, but he seemed a little too happy compared to what had happened the previous night. Say what? All he could manage were groans of a zombie variety.

Suddenly, there was heat at his feat. Marco had never moved so fast, flipping around in the hay where he was entangled and looking right up at Ace, who felt the need to laugh and play with the fire at his hand. "Yoi!" Marco shouted. "Polo! Happy?"

Ace seemed pleased enough, turning his head slightly at were the bottoms of Marco's feet healed themselves, then he outright nodded. It was so uncharacteristic, had he completely forgotten the previous night?

"Good. Come on, we ain't got all day." Ace Threw his thumb back at the horse, already suited up and ready to go.

Marco did a double take between Ace and the animal. He'd even gotten everything ready and was set to leave? This guy really was willing to go knock on death's door. But the thing that still had Marco confused was why he would've woken him up to come along. He wanted his maybe future killer to tag along? They had such an awkward conversation the last night he would've thought for sure Ace would've went alone without him.

Ace was already making his way back to the horse when Marco got up, hitting off any hay sticking to him. He even tried combing his hair with his fingers, for shits and giggles.

"You're letting me come along?" Of course he couldn't not voice his curiosity.

Ace stopped when he reached the horse, greeting it with a nice rub to the ear before watching Marco approach. He raised an eyebrow at him.

"I don't know, Mr. Phoenix." Gah, why that name out of any he could've used? Even Pineapple felt like it would fly better. "Are you much of a gambler?"

Marco's mind went back to the words Ace had said about being drawn better cards. Was he a gambler? Not preferably, but if Ace was an addict, what wasn't he prepared to roll with? He just shrugged, moving to the opposite side of the horse and staring at Ace across it.

"Oh, here." Ace's face lit up and he reached into his satchel, retrieving something and handing it across the horse's back. "Reckon you'll need this. Only people who can't tell a skunk from house cat would show up to a gunfight without a gun."

Hesitantly, Marco reached out and took the weapon by its handle. It felt weird, holding a gun in his hand since he'd never before in his life intended to use one, but seemed like a normal gun nonetheless. It was nothing like Ace's special gun, a devil gun. Which, since things seemed to be in a lighter mood, he couldn't help but ask.

"Hey Ace." Marco checked to make sure the safety was on before anything. "Why doesn't the Phoenix use a gun, yoi?"

The freckled man grinned, childishly letting his chin rest on the horse's saddle. His eyes stared up at Marco.

"Bet you would like to know." He let out a hum. "He was born a Phoenix with his flames, I don't think there is a gun out there for him. Last you said you were trying to find a gun you could borrow. Maybe one with flames."

Marco's face must've changed more than he intended to because Ace shot him an annoyed look.

"Don't even think about it, you just try and take my gun, and I'll burn your butt."

Born as a Phoenix? Was that even a thing? He wanted to ask more about it, but decided not to. It was probably for the better he didn't learn all of this stuff.

It took them a few more minutes, but then they set off out of the barn and back into the town. This time, riding in front with Ace's arms around him wasn't too bad and he wasn't as ashamed. It was actually kind of nice and, without such secrets on his shoulders, he felt like he might be able to actually enjoy it, in a weird 'this is happening right before maybe death but still very nice' sort of way.

They didn't go straight to the meeting point however, Ace took them instead to a row of housing and jumped off, gathering their stuff as they went.

"We'll walk from this point on. Can't be letting our beauty in the crossfire," he explained, patting the horse on the back.

Then, like the real character he was, he looked over to the side at a couple kids playing. Marco didn't know what to think, he understood not wanting to let the horse get injured, but now he was just spoiling these kids rotten, to think he was actually giving them the reigns and telling them it was theirs.

Both of them stood there, watching the kids run off with giant smiles on their face as they guided it towards home. Ace elbowed him in the side then, signalling they'd just walk.

"That was nice, yoi." It was stupid and uncalled for, but Marco wanted to praise him regardless. His time to do so might be dwindling.

Ace nodded and led the way as they turned down an alley, heading off into a stretch of sand. "Reckon so? They reminded me of Luffy."

After that it became quiet in between them, only the sound of sand moving under their feet as they went and occasionally a check at a compass. Marco wasn't sure exactly, since Ace was walking ahead, but he kept taking glances at Ace. He seemed to be deep in his own thoughts, his expression changing as he contemplated something inside his brain. They weren't that far off and away from town when Ace stopped, however, catching him in the act. It couldn't have been the heat, but his cheeks were slightly flushed.

He lowered his chin, finding the brim of his hat to be a nice escape from Marco's view. "Listen, Marco. I have to apologize."

For what? Marco raised a brow. It sounded innocent enough, but at the same time it had him on alert. If it was an apology for future defeat or anything of the like he might actually knock him down and drag him back, fourth degree burns or not.

"I knew about Teach and our meet up, and that he would try to take me in." Slowly, Ace raised the brim to his hat and looked Marco dead set in the eye.

"You don't remember it now, but the Phoenix told me his plans. I should've told you, but hearing it from you in person after seeing your flames… it made it real to me."

Marco's mouth seemed dry. "What else did the Phoenix tell you?"

Really, he hated feeling like he was in the dark about all this, which is all he'd felt since the moment he woke up here a couple days back.

"He told me about what Teach has been up to, taking down towns just for his bounties and fame. Asked me to help." Marco's eyes followed Ace as he gestured to his gun. "He had a plan and figured the best way he could lure Blackbeard out was to lie. I told you, the Phoenix doesn't have a weapon of his own, so he told Teach he wanted mine. That was his part of the bargain if he could get me there."

Ace sent him a warm smile. "It's a shame you lost your memory, you know, it was a good plan. I got worried there for a second, but you know." Sheepishly, he was scratching at the back of his neck now. "I'm glad the Phoenix is some guy like you. On paper he seemed kind of... you know."

He didn't, but that didn't matter. Marco felt stupidly happy and no doubt his lip had curved up itself into a smile.

"Probably didn't know I could kiss, yoi."

Ace huffed, but it wasn't a denial. His expression soon softened, and the atmosphere changed.

"We're still in a pickle here though. The Phoenix never was able to find Blackbeard's weakness." His eyes seemed to glaze over. "I know you might think I'm stupid. Or a dork-" Marco would never hear that word again the same way. "I still want to try and stop Teach and see what happens. Now I know I might be a little stubborn, but I'd rather do that than running away with my tail between my legs."

In a way, Marco was torn. He could understand both sides of this now, the side that was his own and then of course how Ace must've felt. Damn, did he have to be stubborn until the end?

"You listenin'?"

Marco nodded, watching as Ace smiled satisfied. However, he did reach out and grab his arm just before he could start walking away once more. "Alright, yoi, we can go. But on one condition."

"Condition? Shoot."

"We don't go kick ass until we have a plan."

Ace pressed his lips together and let out a sigh. "You're a tough bargain Marco from Pineapple Land. But alright, let's hear what you've got."


	6. Chapter 6

**VI.**

The meeting place was set in an abandoned part of town that was deemed unlivable after a dust storm came through and beat the shit out of everything. Apparently, those were no joke - hellish wind tunnels sent to those who didn't respect them properly or something like that. Marco had only listened half heartedly, as everything in the Wild West seemed to have such a reason. The buildings were scattered around, some were still standing, but others had chunks missing or had fallen and crumpled completely.

There wasn't a lick of shade, the sun in the center of the sky beating right down on the sand. It was safe to say that they were the only ones there. Aside, of course, from Blackbeard. He was pretty hard to miss, a very large, loud unwanted guest standing in what used to be this town's town square. He'd apparently come alone, which was a plus for both Marco and Ace.

As expected he was wearing his grin when they approached and not even the slight sandy breeze could stop him. His devil gun was at his side.

"Marco, Ace," he greeted them appropriately, considering he seemed nothing but pleased they'd both arrived. "I was wonderin' if you would be coming together."

His eyes slowly moved back and forth from them both, and his expression shifted, becoming more curious and excited.

"You look pretty _fired_ up." Talk about your forced pun. "Reckon you have something to tell me?"

Marco sighed, relaxing his shoulders. He felt so at ease, his hand was half and half with his pocket. From the outside, he seemed pretty composed and indifferent. Ace, on the other hand, was fired up, his eyes never leaving Blackbeard. Before they had even entered the square, his hand had been hovering over his gun.

"_Enjomo_." He wasted no time retrieving it and summoning his flames. Except this time, they set themselves ablaze in the distance, circling them inside the square - keeping them in or rather, anyone else out.

"There's been a change of plans, Teach. I'm fixin' to turn you in."

Blackbeard clapped his hands together and let out a holler. "I reckoned something like this would happen. Damn birds, hardly loyal creatures."

Marco shot him a glare, but the bastard continued.

"They all be useless and better off in a cage."

Marco took a deep breath, flaring his nostrils, but refused to get angry. He half shrugged. "You're right." He looked over at Ace, who didn't expect his bluntness. "I am."

Their expressions might've been priceless if the situation was different, but it wasn't, and now Marco was turning and walking away. He waved his hand in the air, signalling his retreat. "Let me know how it turns out, yoi."

There was an ugly vein on Blackbeard's forehead that was threatening to pop. Apparently, it was fine when he harassed his supposed comrade, but the minute he got sass he wasn't so much a team player. In fact, it made him furious, enough to get this charade started. Quickly, his hand went for his gun and he had it drawn, aiming it right at the back of Marco's head.

"Kurouzu-"

"I don't think so, partner." Before a stream of black could properly escape the barrel of Blackbeard's gun, a wall of flames blocked his path and effectively made him lose his sight on Marco.

It was what Ace had intended for in the first place. He wanted to be Blackbeard's opponent where Marco could not, he wanted to stop the bastard who wasn't thinking twice before demolishing towns filled with people for bounties he wasn't even sure existed. There was being an outlaw and there was being a despicable human being.

Teach was glowering holes into Ace's skull before forcing himself into another round of laughter like this change meant nothing. He was in denial, probably coming to terms he wouldn't be able to be lazy about this like he originally had hoped.

"This just makes things easier," he growled, raising his arms up, gun in hand in the direction of the sky. What was he going for, a strong move first to try and end things quickly? It might have been an old west showdown, but that just wouldn't have been fun. "Black hole!"

Similar to an earthquake, the ground seemed to shake, the structures of the remaining tarnished buildings wailing as gravity itself seemed to be dragging them in towards the large ugly man, not that they had a choice. The sand around began to pick up, a faint black mist rolling out of the gun and claiming what it could. In the end, it would be a powerful attack - if he was able to get to it.

Nope, instead he got too hot headed too fast, just ask the hot expert. Ace was still around, and it wasn't like he was just going to stand there and let him do this. Nope, instead just like he'd practiced alone back at Thatch's shack, he'd gotten into one of his favorite poses, aiming right for a snipe.

"_Higan._" It was comical, and the fire bullet hit Blackbeard right in the eyes.

It was enough for now anyway to catch him off guard, ending the black hole early and buying Ace some actual real time. Sniping him with a Higan wouldn't kill Blackbeard, as unfortunate as it was, but it sure was the fun like throwing a rock. First things first, he blocked his face with his arms, bearing the incoming sand and debris. Releasing the black hole meant releasing everything it'd caught as well.

It made Ace laugh actually. "You look mad enough to bite yourself, Teach!"

Blackbeard snarled, his smile long gone. "When I'm done with you, Fire Fist, there won't be enough left to snore!"

Oh damn, Ace quickly hit the deck and rolled, dodging an old door in his direction. Quickly, he scrambled to his feet, seeing nothing but his own playground where he could run and tease here. Since, of course, It didn't seem like Blackbeard would be the type to physically chase after him. Instead, he stayed at his spot in the middle, shooting out what he could with his might.

Black beard's favorite ability seemed to be the Kurouzu, the move he'd attempted to grab Marco with. They hadn't actually gotten to see what it did just yet, but it was probably for the better. Ace didn't want to know, shown in the way he was swift to fight it off with his own attacks.

"_Jujika_!" he shouted, leaping over debris in his way. Gun still in his hand, he crossed his fingers on his trigger and released a powerful cross of fire at Blackbeard, watching as he nearly didn't move quick enough to swallow it up with his darkness.

The freckled man was trying to be technical. How long could he run in circles, getting closer and closer like the final boss battle of a videogame, before Blackbeard noticed? The world may never know. What Ace's plan would be good at was helping Ace stall for time and fill up Teach's rage meter to the extreme.

Furiously he stomped on the ground, aiming his gun there as well. "This ain't no game!" he gritted through cracked teeth. "You want to play around. Well, that's just fine."

Marco was actually impressed. Watching Ace practice his moves that one night was one hell of an experience, but actually getting to see him move up close in person was indescribable. Then again, Marco wasn't exactly really up close and personal. After walking away from the fight - which both he and Ace had decided to be for the best given his only option to fight was a plain old gun - he'd retreated back to the nearest building that seemed the most stable.

Granted, Marco didn't feel good having to watch this happen from an old window of one of these buildings. He wanted to be out there beside Ace, taking some bastard like Blackbeard down. But alas, as he looked at his gun, it wouldn't hurt him even if he wanted it to. Instead, he and Ace had devised something a little different for Marco to do while Ace was fighting the big boy.

Marco couldn't fight, but he did have his smarts. Hell, they didn't let him be a professor in the future for nothing. He tried to explain this to Ace before things got started, but it probably wouldn't have mattered what he told him he was a professor of, Ace wanted to roll with it, giving him complete trust to back him up in anyway he could. It was a bit on the spot for Marco, considering how low anything he would have wanted to use on an enemy was in the Wild West, but he eventually found something that could work.

His eyes drifted back to all of the empty containers and items of all different shapes and sizes he'd 'found' and looted to not only this building, but a few of the other ones around. It wasn't the coolest thing perhaps, but it was easy. Some alcohol, combined with a few homemade explosions, lots of copper… You know, fun stuff. He only hoped it would work and give the distraction he needed it to for when things might have gotten too out of hand and Marco needed to throw himself in there to intervene. He was, afterall, perfectly equipped to be a human meat shield.

Instead of turning back to the window, Marco moved back toward the door and rested on the doorframe. With Ace using every opportunity he could to bitch slap Teach's attention back to him, his presence around seemed to still be unnoticed. But how much longer could Ace's ruse last? He wasn't using any of his serious attacks yet, Ace had told him he wouldn't unless he really needed to, but still surely even a dumbass like Blackbeard would catch on relatively fast?

Marco's fingers brushed against the matches in his palm. Ace's personal matches. Wasn't it funny to think that he, with his fire ability, carried these around? Well, before he fell on that cactus he had to get his fire from somewhere, Marco supposed.

Marco narrowed his eyes. Was it him or were things getting darker? He looked up back at the scene at hand. Teach was still in the same place, angry as hell, his gun pointed at the ground.

"Black World."

The ground started to shake like before, Marco's hand moving to hold onto the doorframe. He could feel it vibrating, but this time it was different, it wasn't the same attack. It wasn't attracting and dragging the structures out. No, instead, a black mist seemed to rise out of no where, like the sun had been covered. Marco nearly dropped his matches, his eyes struggling on the scene. Where did Ace go? Had Blackbeard's darkness grabbed him?

Marco couldn't see a damn thing, were they even on earth anymore? There was nothing but pitch black - even Ace's fire ring had been extinguished. He wanted to yell out, but forced himself not to, he couldn't blow his cover yet, just in case. Sounds were beginning to echo as if they were trapped in some kind of void. Someone was struggling.

This wasn't good. Marco needed to get rid of this Black World, whatever was happening in here it was suppressing Ace's ability to fight back. Feeling around him, he realized they were still back in the Wild West - the door frame was still there. Then so were the matches. Was there ever a better time to set his plan off and clear this shit than now?

Especially when… Marco swallowed thickly. There was red. But not just red, a mix of reddish hues and oranges, distinctively Ace. It wasn't a single flame, but multiple. Marco could see the outline of his body in the distance against the black, he was still fighting and had engulfed himself in his own flame. He'd been grabbed and was fighting Blackbeard Off, but given they were in a room of dark the ability had to have grown stronger.

Marco would have preferred his name called out in a damsel in distress style before he went all scientific, but there was a song about not always getting what you wanted. Feeling the matches, he moved to light one then braced himself, letting it drop. Things went to hell, and Marco lunged forward, despite if he could've survived explosions on his own. His hands moved to his ears just in time to muffle the large explosions that moved around the square, shattering Blackbeard's illusion.

His body felt unbearably hot, but Marco knew what would happen next. His clothes might look pretty piss poor, but in three seconds or more he'd be fine. Instead, he forced himself to raise his head and look at Ace. The explosions seemed to work, shock smashed against Blackbeard's face. He probably had never seen such explosions and fire before, certainly not in such an elegant shade of blue, or had his world shattered right in front of him

The sun's return was quick and nearly blinding, but it fueled a certain freckled cowboy. Ace seemed rejuvenated, the fire that outlined his body intensifying enough that he was able to push himself out of Teach's grasp and launch himself back into the air. There, with a look of determination in his eye, he focused the growing flames to his fist. He was aiming straight for Teach, who was shielding himself from the debris of the explosions.

"Oh, you've done it now, Teach!" he yelled, passing his gun from one side to the other, freeing up his good hand. "HIGAN-"

There was instant regret that washed against his face noticing the grin back on Blackbeard. His laugh haunted the whole square as he seemed to be completely willing and welcoming of the oncoming attack. While Ace was still in motion Teach raised his gun, aiming it right for his midsection.

"Black hole."

He was going to suck in and absorb the impact and he would. The damn attack with it's darkness attracted everything in toward it and the nearest thing happened to be Ace. The force of all the gravity collided with his body, knocking the air out of his lungs. He cried out in anguish, one of the most horrible sounds to Marco's ears, and his devil gun - his only weapon and protection - went flying off to the side.

Marco struggled to his feet, his flames still scattered among his limbs and torso trying to manage his burns. Ace. He had to get to Ace and save him. No more would he play back up, he needed to be there, he needed to save him from any and all sufferings. He'd lost him once to history, he wasn't about to lose him again. Not when he had just really found out he existed or got to know him for him and not just the tales.

Ace, under the power of Thatch's darkness and gravity fell to his knees and elbows. He was trying to be strong, anyone with a pair of eyes could've seen it. But he shouldn't have been, he should just wait. Marco was going to find a way, he would end all of this and get them out of here. He would save Ace, just like he was sent back here to do.

Then there was that god awful laugh. That, he would have to stop that just as much. He would not allow for a future where Blackbeard was ever regarded as a hero, he was scum - nothing more, nothing less.

"As expected from the runt of a family of nooses." Blackbeard, knowing he had Ace in his hold, stepped forward and kicked him down onto his side. "Reckon I'll go after your brother next."

Even though his bones very well might start to crack, Ace didn't give in, he glared and spat in Teach's direction. It just fueled the bigger man's humor more.

Marco stumbled forward a few paces, irritated in how heavy his body felt, almost as something was purposely holding him back from interfering just yet. Sand and parts of buildings were surging forward toward Blackbeards black hole, so shouldn't he also be feeling some sort of draw to it? No, instead, something skidded across the sand and landed against Marco's shoe. He almost didn't look and kicked it away, but, damn, was he glad he hadn't.

It was like fate had finally thrown him a good card. Ace's gun, that had gone missing in action the minute it had left Ace's hand, somehow had ended up right at Marco's feet. If there was ever a better sign than that, he honestly wasn't certain. Especially since Ace had even said the Phoenix had a feeling this would be the gun that would actually work on offense. He bent down and picked it up, turning it over in his hand. He could feel its strength and the power it held inside, it was warm and gave off a feeling Marco couldn't describe any other way than an embodiment of Ace. This gun and him really were two peas in a pod.

He spun it around his finger, much like he'd seen Ace do before and aimed it right at the bastard he hated the most at the moment. Then, feeling his healing flames less as restricting but empowering - as the introduction of Ace's gun in his grasp did nothing but encourage them - he began to move towards him. He'd end this now.

"Hey, Teach!" he yelled across the distance, stopping and shifting his weight on his foot, preparing himself.

The higher than a kite Teach didn't disappoint, rolling his head in Marco's direction, laughing even louder at such a turn of events.

"What do you say we see what this will do after all, yoi?" Marco couldn't help it, he felt like there was nothing more certain than Blackbeard's demise. Or maybe that smile was contagious. He struggled to keep his eyes ahead though and not on Ace, struggling under the weight of the world.

The proposition was really a fifty fifty gamble. Either this would turn out to be nothing more than an average shot and Marco would be easily caught as Ace, or something spectacular would happen. Marco was putting all his chips in on this, Teach just needed to play.

"Zehahahaha!" Blackbeard out stretched his arms. "Give me all you've got!"

Excellent.

Marco could feel the rush of his own Phoenix fire through his veins. From the influence of Ace's gun, it traveled through his body with more intensity than he'd ever felt before. His whole body was consumed and he could feel everything changing. No, he was changing. There was the overwhelming feeling of freedom and a surge of power and he felt himself lift into the air. His mind wasn't clouded, his goal was clear, he needed to save Ace, he'd do whatever he could to accomplish it and let the power of the gun merge with his own to succeed it.

His eyes that had closed from just how bright his being had become opened, taking in the sight of the field from his place in the sky. He couldn't feel the gun in his hand anymore, actually, he'd dropped just as any transformation began. Did it really help or was it just what he needed to unlock his true force?

Marco dived down, wasting no minute to swoop in for a rescue. His talons outright and undeniably sharp he was going straight for Teach's face. The bastard wasn't smiling anymore, his face easily shone regret. That was just the regret of a bad gamble.

Marco's talons collided with Blackbeard, but they didn't stop when they hit, no, it was like Marco was past the simplicity that was physical form, he cut straight through him, ripped through the darkness that clung to him like his shadow and shattered his gun in the process. That had to be it, didn't it? He'd defeated him, he'd found his attack, he finally understood what the hell was going on and now Ace should be free and alive. Right?

Soaring up to maintain his speed, Marco had wanted to turn his head around, to steal a look and make sure, but a white hot pain spread at his temple. No, no, no - what the hell was this? Had he overdone it? His body wasn't ready for this? What was the point of being 'born a Phoenix' if he couldn't even handle this? It didn't matter how much Marco protested, it was crippling. His body went limp and he expected to crash.

Except, what eventually came was nothing but underwhelming. He did find himself against something uncomfortably, but it wasn't the hot sand or the remains of that forgotten town. It was cold and clammy. The pain in his temple subsided, but only by so much, becoming more of a bruised knot instead of the aneurism he was expecting. Without thinking, Marco moved his hand to cradle it, finding it to feel like his actual head. He was back to normal.

"Marco!" It was Ace's voice. Damn, what a relief. "We kicked his ass!"

To make it even better, he seemed happy himself and was practically dry sobbing. Marco hadn't yet opened his eyes - he was trying his best to massage at his painful spot - but he could feel two arms wrap around him and knew them to belong to Ace.

Reluctant to stop massaging, Marco instead gave in to his exhaustion and fell forward into Ace's chest, finding comfort there despite. A job well done, he could even hear his heart beat if he really focused.

It was so relaxing, until of course Ace's hold on him went from a generous hug of thanks to a near death grip. The small noise that escaped Marco from the sudden change would not easily be forgotten.

"M-marco." Ace's voice was a lot different now, stuttering like that. "Where are we?"

Actually, now that Marco thought about it, did he just hear them get shh'd? The blond's eyes popped open quickly and widened as they took in the environment. It was the library- the college library. There was nothing Wild West insight. He was back home, back in his time? Ah ha, so saving Ace was the objective!

But wait a minute, take it back, there was something Wild West here, he hadn't imagined that accent. He looked up at Ace, still shirtless as ever, whose face was fairly pale. His eyes was darting from everything until they looked back at him. He had no idea what was going on. Apparently, traveling to the future was more terrifying then returning to the past for him, but wait until he discovered the internet.

Still, this wouldn't do. He was on the ground being cradled by Ace, who easily looked like a shirtless student - at his place of work. There would be rumors, plenty. Flustered, Marco got to his feet, taking Ace up with him. He waved the very unamused librarian away, praying they'd get enough privacy to start an escape. How long had they been gone for? Did he really some how bring them both back to the moment his head had gotten hit?

Speaking of getting hit, where was what hit him? Even though it shouldn't be his top priority to find, he looked around and his chest sunk. Fuck. Quickly, he bent down and scrambled to pick up a very vintage, very old, very Ace gun that had tagged along with them and tucked it into his jacket. That would've gotten bad really fast - besides… had that been what hit him? It made his skin crawl, things were so much simpler when he thought it'd been a book.

After finding it secure and not obvious, Marco reached a hand out, gently squeezing Ace's arm. The poor guy had gone silent in his culture shock - Marco expected if this ever happened that's how he'd be.

"Listen to me, Ace, and don't freak out, yoi," he said calmly and in a low manner, enough that Ace could hear. Ace nodded hesitantly, looking him in the eyes for some sort of direction. "We're in the future. This is where I'm from."

Ace's eyes grew twice as big and his mouth slightly drooped. "Future?" Nervously, he broke out into a laugh, but considering they were now in a library in the current year there was little room to argue.

Marco nodded, then pulled on him to follow him. "Now come on, we have to get you out of here-"

"You mean with the tele whatsits?!" Slowly, he began to grin, then forced the blond to stop and turn, like there was something else that had come to mind he couldn't help but focus on first. "Wait, Marco."

Marco's eyes moved back and forth. Damn, they didn't have time, Ace looked like they'd been back from hell, and there was so much to explain. Also, wasn't it common courtesy in whatever time period to be hush in libraries? Then again, It was hard for Marco to get too bothered when Ace's voice and his face seemed to brighten regardless of what was happening.

"What?"

Ace yanked his arm back because he'd need it. Then in one swift movement, using both his hands, he reached out and grabbed Marco's face, taking the professor by surprise. He pulled him into the biggest kiss he could muster.

"Thank ya."


	7. Chapter 7

**VII.**

"Now, Marco, I don't want you to take this personally," Ace began to mutter, scratching his neck.

They were now walking down the hallway to Marco's apartment. The poor man from the past was draped in a blanket from the blond's trunk, covering it around himself and looking around every which way. His eyes hadn't had a chance to close since they'd gotten back here in the future, there was too much to see and speculate, all of which just made him grin. Except, well, a certain thing.

"I don't reckon I'll get along with that car thingamajig."

Marco, too, couldn't stop grinning since they'd gotten back and was even smirking now while he fetched his keys. It was hard to explain, he knew the modern world and its wonders to an extent, but seeing Ace's reactions to things he interacted with on a daily basis was just priceless, every comment - whether dripping with country sass or not- was pure gold.

The car fiasco was eventful to say the least. It wasn't that Ace got car sick and that was why he didn't enjoy the ride, in fact, at first he seemed pretty pumped and accepting of the thing, excited to give it a spin. It was the idea of there being other cars on the road, specifically in the other lane coming in their direction. No matter how many times Marco swore they weren't coming right for them, it didn't matter.

Somehow, even while wearing the seat belt, the wannabe cowboy, draped in the blanket, managed to climb up into his seat more onto his feet to get a better aerial view through the windshield. His hand held a death grip on Marco's shoulder, a consistent chain of 'whoa whoa whoa' coming from his shallow breaths until a car passed by and they had a few moments of one not coming towards them.

"You'll get used to it, I swear the other cars weren't going at us, yoi." Marco turned the key into the lock. "Just wait until you try indoor plumbing or a hot shower."

The doorway inside the apartment was dark, just the way Marco had left it. Even still, trusting him, Ace followed him inside the dark room and let the door close behind.

"Plumbing?"

Oh, that would be fun to explain to Ace. Marco side stepped over to hit the lights, but froze when they turned on before he could. He doubted Ace knew the light switch just yet, which meant they weren't alone. One look over across the room at the second switch, there was a familiar face.

It was Luffy. Not the Wild West Luffy, to Marco's surprise as he'd never seen modern Luffy. He looked just as young, dressed like any other young adult these days, but his eyes were wide and focused right on Ace. How the hell had he known where Marco even lived? His Ace senses were tingling perhaps? Marco decided not to question it too much as it seemed like he had something to say, but remained silent. Then came the dry sobs.

Ace was just as surprised to see Luffy here. Everything was so new to him in the future, finding his brother in Marco's home most likely hadn't crossed his mind. Yet, here he was and if Ace had been feeling sort of home sick in the last twenty or so minutes of being in the future it was long gone.

"Luffy-?" he started, his grin starting to form, until of course he made contact with the back of the door.

His brother had practically tackled him against it, his arms around him. "Ace!" His voice was so sad, Marco felt an actual twinge of guilt. Though did he have a reason to feel guilty? He did back Ace up kind of.

Feeling this wasn't his reunion to spoil, especially if this reincarnation of Luffy had just remembered he had a long lost brother he'd forgotten, Marco moved to put away his things from work and a certain gun in his pocket. To think they came back to this day where he'd left, it felt unreal. That, and since he wasn't initially planning to drag a guy out of the Wild West and into the future to stay with him in the beginning, preparations needed to be done. And for some reason, even though he knew Ace didn't know what a modern home should like, he felt like he needed to take advantage of cleaning what little mess there might have been.

"You little rubber bastard, what are you doing here?" Ace laughed, pulling his brother's face away with his hands. Then he pulled at his cheeks, stopping and cocking an eyebrow at the fact there wasn't their usual stretch. "Or not rubber bastard."

"I thought you were dead!" Ugly crying, there were ugly tears.

"You… You thought I was dead?" Ace's voice might have cracked. The tears were contagious, they were such brothers. Considering his time jump, there had to have been hundreds of years he was missing and assumed dead. "Well, kind of, but…"

Dropping the blanket that was draped around him, he bear hugged his brother in return. "I ain't leaving again."

There wasn't a dry eye in the house, except for Marco's, who was still tidying up pillows on the couch. Slowly, he stood up to look at how they turned out, pausing to stare at the picture on the end table. It was of him, Thatch and Izo. If Luffy remembered his past now that Ace was here, how likely was it that those two remembered as well? Now that Marco understood everything was more on reincarnation terms and not ancestral.

That, and how much did Marco secretly owe his brother in all this? A hell of a lot, that's what. He didn't help directly, but just from being a nerd in this sort of thing and bugging Marco most of his life, he helped him out big time. Even if Thatch didn't remember, he felt like he owed him enough to secretly introduce him to one of his western idols. How long would it take Thatch to recognize Ace's face or would he just compliment him on making the costume?

He got his phone out of his pocket and looked back over to the other two in the doorway. He didn't need to keep looking back at Ace, but he still wanted to. It was exciting to have him here, it felt unreal to imagine him in his home - so of course Marco wanted to steal any of the glances in Ace's direction he could just incase fate was cruel and might take him away.

Both the brothers were wiping at their eyes and laughing like idiots, a happy reunion indeed.

"Oi, Ace! Have you seen what a microwave is yet?"

Ace shook his head. "Uh, I don't reckon so? Is it at a beach?" Such innocence, he heard wave and thought water.

Speaking of water.

"Luffy." Marco walked back into the kitchen, hovering in the doorway with his phone out. They weren't acquaintances or anything, but he felt confident the little brother would want to show Ace everything just as much as Marco wanted to. "Show him a shower first, yoi."

Luffy's eyes seemed to brighten at that, his mind working and knowing how nice of an upgrade that had been since the West. He grabbed onto Ace's arm, dragging him in the direction of the bathroom. Marco dialed Thatch's number and brought the phone up to his ear.

Ace was being dragged across the floor, but held his ground. "I'll go, I'll go, just wait a gosh darn second, Luffy!" He pulled away, taking a deep breath before looking over at Marco.

"What are you going to do?"

What? Why was he asking something like that, wanting to know what Marco was up to? With a concerned face like that, still scuffed with dirt from their last battle. It didn't slightly, just a tiny smidge, flatter the professor. He averted his eyes and cleared his throat.

"I'm calling Thatch. He's my brother in the future, yoi."

Was it really that surprising? Well, at least Ace knew now the other Thatch he said he knew.

Ace went to say something, perhaps something about how could you call Thatch from being in here, but stopped when audibly the other line on the phone picked up. Marco cursed his phone volume for being loud enough that others could hear from it, not even on speaker.

"Yo, Marco, I heard you and a student ran out of the library shirtless-"

"THATCH?" Ace moved quickly, jumping to snatch the phone from Marco. He stared down at it. He was quick to accept things of the future, but this was too perfect. He shook it, then listened to see if there was a noise inside of it. "Are you in there, Thatch? It's Ace! I'm in Marco's house! Ya'll are brothers?"

The cellphone became the potato in a game of Hot Potato, as Luffy snatched the phone next and handed it back to Marco, who was thankful. He didn't know if he would have had the power to take the phone from Ace, his curiosity to what he would've kept saying too strong. Promptly, Marco turned the volume down and gestured Ace off toward the bathroom.

"Don't worry what I'm doing, yoi, I'm not going anywhere."

Was Ace having those same thoughts? About everything feeling almost too good to be true? Idiot, there was no use in them both worrying about something like that. Ace nodded, then let his brother continue to drag him off.

There was only one phrase that accurately described Izo's face as he stood next to Marco and watched the scene before them. Then he facepalmed, hard, shaking his head further into his hand. Marco would've joined in that facepalm, but, instead, he just watched with open eyes. Ace had enjoyed his first hot shower, everyone on their apartment floor probably knew considering the 'yeehaw' he'd proclaimed, and was now outside again. Except he hadn't gotten dressed. Luffy and Ace were supposed to raid Marco's closet for some modern wear while Marco left for a moment to let Izo into the building. However, Ace, wearing his towel loosely around his waist and another one around his hair, twisted like some sort of tower, was down on his knees next to his brother. Both of them were way too close staring straight into the microwave as it cooked what smelt like some kind of meat.

"Are you two morons?" Izo dropped his hand and hissed, shooting them a look.

Both brothers moved to sit up, but accomplished knocking their heads together instead. Rubbing their noggins, they looked up and shared in saying their friend's name.

Ace got to his feet first, unable to stop himself from hugging Izo. "Izo, you're in the future too? Did you know Thatch is in a tiny little box?" He stepped away, mildly concerned.

Izo shot a glance at Marco, who just muttered the explanation that he meant a cell phone. Izo just nodded, then looked to Ace. Then, shocking everyone but maybe Luffy - who was getting the meat out of the microwave - he smacked Ace clear across the face.

"What the hell is the matter with you? Leaving without saying a word and disappearing like that! Did you want to give us heart attacks?" He bit on his lip, then turned his face away.

If it hadn't literally felt like yesterday to Marco, he wouldn't have understood. But now he knew what he was referring to, which was Ace and himself leaving to confront Teach While Izo and Thatch had gone into town.

Before the startled Ace could answer, Izo was shaking his head again and smiled. "Well, it doesn't matter that much anymore, you're here with us now, right?" Still, he jabbed a finger into the wannabe cowboy's face. "But you have to put some damn clothes on."

Skip a few hours ahead and a few drinks gone, Ace was sprawled onto the couch asleep. Which was a shame, he actually wore modern clothes very nicely. Well, he wore Marco's clothes very nicely, the professor thought, not that he'd checked him out after Izo had dressed him, laughing at the fact he was still adamant about keeping the button up shirt open to expose his abs. That would have to change over time and not right away, it seemed.

Still, time moved by a lot faster after that. Ace and Luffy went on a binge spree through Marco's magical ice box, using the equally as magical microwave to send their taste buds on a ride like never before. Izo tried to fill Ace in on the most important things in the world nowadays, but gave in and went back to joyfully drinking when it was obvious a lot of it was too overwhelming and went in through one ear out the other. Of course, Ace passed out on his own accord, leaving Marco alone to host to their house guests.

Thatch was the last to arrive - unlike Marco, he didn't feel a reason to ditch work so quickly, because his memory hadn't seemed to return right away. Even after he walked into Marco's apartment and saw the sleeping Ace, it hadn't completely come back. He recognized who Ace was supposed to be and that he was the real thing and they knew one another, but couldn't place personal memories back. He also claimed to continuously be receiving visions of Izo in Wild West attire and lingerie that Izo didn't care for one bit.

Eventually Thatch sat on the couch and tried to wrap his mind around what he was being told.

"So let me get this straight." Thatch put his hand out in front of him while he spoke, completely in the zone. "You, of all people, got sent back to the Wild West to save Portgas D. Ace, my favorite cowboy?" As he spoke he pointed, just for emphasis.

Marco, lounging back in his spot next to the sleeping Ace just nodded, taking a drink. "Yup. Even saved his life and killed Blackbeard in the process, yoi." The bragging rights were so, so sweet.

"Why?!" Thatch purposely shoved at his stack of books he'd brought for shits and giggles, the books Luffy was looking through for the pictures only. "Out of all of the people who could've been sent back, they sent you? Does this mean one of my theories were correct?"

Izo reached across the distance to point and whisper at something in a book to Luffy, and they shared in a laugh.

The sound of a book falling from the tower onto the coffee table was enough to wake the sleeping western beauty from his sleep. Slowly, Ace sat up and rubbed at his eyes and glared at the book in question. As if nothing else mattered, who was around him or what time period he was in, just what had woken him up.

That book in particular had already been book marked in several places, Ace chose one at random. Then he winced.

"Man, they got my face wrong." He turned a few pages to the next one, then his eyes widened. He beamed at his little brother and lifted up the book. "Luffy, you did all of this stuff?"

Luffy grinned, laughing with his shishishis.

Ace gave a nod to Thatch, then looked back at the book, excited about what he was reading.

"Well, shut my mouth." He smirked, though was he really surprised? The two brothers seemed to hold each other in high regard.

There was a small murmur of laughter to Ace's remark that made the freckled man look up, his smile fading slightly, almost embarrassingly.

"What? Did I say something?"

Izo nodded. "Yes, everything you say." He started to explain. "It's not really how people talk anymore. But don't worry, I'm sure Marco finds it adorable."

Marco shot him a glare. How to throw someone under a bus much? He shook his head. "It's alright, yoi. Hater's going to hate."

His eyes moved, meeting Ace's that had gone to look at him. The cowboy's cheeks had actually flushed and he quickly turned away, turning to Thatch. Marco looked down at his drink and finished it off.

"So how did you two defeat Blackbeard then? Your gun, Ace?" Thatch asked, stopping himself in realization. He'd remembered something. "Ah, the guns, do you still have your gun?"

There was Marco's chance to get up and away. He rose to his feet. "I'll get it."

Quickly, he went to where he'd stashed it, then brought it back to the table. He handed it off to Thatch and straight lined to his balcony without another word. He needed some fresh air and a chance to think since he'd made it home.

It was a great feeling to have Ace in his real home and his real time period with his friends, but something still pained Marco as a slight guilt. He hadn't intentionally done it, but even so in doing it, he hadn't given Ace much of an option. Would he have really wanted to come to stay here in the future with him, the guy he'd only known for a few days? This was a place where things like his magical guns were useless or non existent and all that Ace had known had been changed. Sure, it might have beaten dying, but Ace himself had said he wanted to see what the cards had written out for him.

Marco stayed out there a good half hour, listening to them inside laughing and getting drunk. But honestly, he was appreciating the night a bit more as well. He turned his head back only once, when the sliding door opened and it was his cowboy in question who stepped out to meet him.

"Sorry," he muttered, coming up to the balcony beside him. "Didn't mean for you to run out like that. It's your house, won't hurt my feelings a bit if you make them go."

That made Marco huff slightly and he looked back at his view. The sun had long set. "They're fine, yoi."

Ace joined him a long few minutes to stare at the view, then he turned his back to it and fiddled with his gun. He'd brought it out with him and twirled it around his finger carelessly, stealing glances in Marco's direction.

"You know, it doesn't seem to work anymore." His voice was low as he explained, looking his weapon over. "I think it went to sleep, knows we won't be needing it anymore for awhile. What do you think?"

Marco didn't know what to think. It would be nice to think of it as dormant now until they needed it most, but he wasn't sure. Another big possibility was he used up all its juice to be selfish with Ace.

"It sucks. You were a pretty weird looking bird too, I reckon I would've liked seeing that again."

Oh right, the bird thing. The blond would just happen to forget to acknowledge that. Marco sighed, turning to face him. Cautiously, he studied at Ace's face, at all those freckles again he really enjoyed counting. He really was relieved getting to see him here, have him this close to him again and back at home when things were less confusing - to himself anyway. He could really reach out to him if he wanted and not be stuck with an incorrect sketch in some history book.

"Do you regret leaving?"

Ace lifted his head at that, turning to look up at Marco. His eyes calmed slightly and he shared in a sigh.

"I'm not sure." He dropped his hand with the gun to his side, then looked up toward the stars. "I read what that there book said about me ,and I think, the cards chose wisely. They did sent you to me and vise versa. Besides, me and Luffy, we were talking about maybe trying to see if our other brother is around. If I wasn't here, we wouldn't have that chance. This future of yours has a lot of neat things, I tell you what."

Slowly, Ace brought his chin down to look at him. Marco could feel he was analyzing his face just as much as he was his.

"Are you having regrets?"

Marco pressed his lips together. Well, he was going to be honest. Did he regret this stuff, being sent back to the Wild West, going on an adventure, having a stupid crush on someone for the first time since maybe highschool and then not having to leave them behind in their own time period? Who would honestly regret that?

"No." He shook his head.

Ace seemed satisfied with that answer, switching around so that they were both facing the view once more. Then, and Marco wasn't sure if he meant to make it obvious or not, he scooted over closer to him. "Good. Cause' I'm fixin' to believe it was kind of romantic. You went all the way back in time just to come get me. And now look at me," He pulled on where the button up shirt was opening. "I'm standing here wearing your shirt and drawers."

Yes, he was, Marco wasn't going to forget that. Slowly, he found himself leaning in closer to Ace. "You haven't even seen romantic yet, yoi."

Ace filled in the gap, kissing him before teasingly whispering, "I reckon this is just gonna keep getting better then,_ yoi_."


End file.
